Walking Out Into the Dark (Lead By Your Beating Heart)
by aaaaaaaaaa-sa-a
Summary: Percabeth AU. Trigger warnings include: Suicidal thoughts, domestic abuse, and murder. DISCONTINUED. New chapter is an explanation as to why it was.
1. Prologue

**AN: I should probably be sleeping right now, but I just had to write this down. Fellow writers out there, you know what I'm talking about.**

**THIS IS RATED FOR _MURDER_. IF THAT TRIGGERS ANYTHING, THEN PLEASE. DO NOT READ THIS.**

"Goodbye, Mother," Annabeth says, placing a quick kiss on her mother's cheek before rushing to the door.

"Bye, dear." Athena places a potato in the cast-iron pot that is set upon the stove. "Have fun with Thalia! Tell her I say, _congratulations_!"

"Yes, of course." With one last wave, Annabeth shuts the door behind her. She leans on the wood for a moment, closing her eyes and sighing in relief, before starting on her way to Thalia's house.

The skirt of her dress brushes against her legs. She should have moved up to hoopskirts a while ago, being sixteen and all, but Athena and Frederick had to put most of their money toward Malcolm's college fund, and they just don't have the extra dollars lying around to purchase a skirt for Annabeth. Her mother complains about how she's not "lady-like," and the whole hoopskirt situation is putting a damper on her growing up the "right way."

Annabeth doesn't care, really. She's seen Katie and Silena and Miranda waddle around in those things, and she'd rather not partake in the "fun."

As people pass by her, she waves, and they wave back. Lou Ellen tries to converse with her, but she quickly excuses herself, saying that she must hurry to Thalia's.

"Oh, right!" Lou Ellen exclaims, shifting the weight of her groceries to one hand. "You mustn't forget to congratulate her for me."

She gives Lou Ellen a smile. "Don't worry; I'll tell her." With a parting nod, Lou Ellen heads down the street to her own house.

Annabeth carries on, careful to avoid the saloon, which is on the way to Thalia's house.

Well, _everything_ is on the way to Thalia's. The Grace house is beyond the edge of town. Mr. Grace owns a large farm that producers a lot for the community. Annabeth's brothers–Malcolm, Bobby, Matthew, and Luke, when he was younger–work as farmhands there.

When she steps off the road, she treads carefully, knowing that if she were to ruin her new shoes, her mother would kill her.

There's a gravel pathway, of course, but it rained last night, and there could be puddles. With this in mind, she decides to hold up her skirts, just to be safe.

She makes it to Thalia's, stain-free, and knocks on the door. Mr. Grace answers it.

"Oh, Annabet'," he greets. She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it. "Thalia's over by tha wheat fields."

"Thank you, Mr. Grace." He nods before shutting the door in her face.

Shrugging her shoulders, she treks to the wheat fields. She knows exactly where Thalia (and probably Katie and Silena) is.

She heads up the hill to where Thalia's Pine Tree is located. Thalia's Pine is large, probably largest in the entire country, and was named after Annabeth's friend because Thalia was the first to ever climb to the top.

Her suspicions are confirmed when she makes it up the slightly steep hill. Thalia, Katie, and Silena sit on a blanket under the pine. Silena is fawning over something on Thalia's hand.

Katie is the first one to notice her. "Hello, Annie!" she greets, waving at her friend.

Annabeth smiles grudgingly at her. "Don't call me that," she advises when she sits down. "Oh, and hello to you, too."

Silena bounces where she's seated, obviously holding back a squeal. "Check out Thalia's ring!" she crows, grabbing onto and forcing Thalia's hand forward so that Annabeth can get a good look.

It's a golden band with three gems on top. One is a blue topaz, another a white, turned gold by the band, gem, and the one in the middle is red.

"You got to admit," Silena says, "even though Kronos is a blundering idiot, he's got positively _exquisite_ taste."

"I'd hope your father didn't marry you off to him just for his taste," Annabeth comments.

Thalia laughs, then sobers, and begins twisting her ring in between her thumb and forefinger. She bites her lip. "How…How did Luke take the news?"

"When I went over to Brother's store to tell him," Annabeth starts, "he disappeared into the saloon, and I have not seen him since."

"Oh, no!" Thalia groans. She places her hands over her eyes.

"Poor Luke," Silena says.

"Drinking his heart away, probably," Katie agrees.

"I'll have to check in on him later," Annabeth says. "But, Thalia, Lou Ellen and my mother told me to tell you congratulations on your engagement."

They spend a while chatting after that. Katie gossips about how her sister Miranda has been sneaking around lately with Lee Fletcher. Silena gushes out all the ideas she has for the wedding, even after Thalia says that both she and Kronos, her fiancé, agreed that the marriage would not happen until at least a year from now. Then, she changes the subject to how she wants her wedding with Charles Beckendorf to go. Annabeth doesn't have the heart to remind her that she and Charles are still just courting.

The conversation carries on until the sun sets, turning the wheat field below them into an ocean of liquid gold.

Katie excuses herself, saying that she has to be back in time for dinner. Silena follows her. With a promise to get Luke out of the tavern to Thalia, Annabeth leaves for town.

Most girls would worry about entering a saloon all by herself.

But Annabeth knows there's nothing to worry about. Most of the men are working at this time, or eating dinner with their families, and Argus (the tavern owner and Thalia's older brother) would make sure that nothing happens to her.

Her chin high and her jaw set, Annabeth pushes open the doors to the saloon.

Inside is dark and dank. Wooden tables and chairs are dotted across the floor, and, in the back, the bar is set up. Argus cleans a shot glass from behind the counter, nodding at her.

Aside from Argus, there are two men in the tavern. The first one is Mr. Sherman, who was once Annabeth's schoolteacher, and he glances at her when she enters. He's not getting a drink, but grabbing the Sunday paper. (It _is_ a school night, after all.)

The other man is the one she's looking for, but he doesn't look at her. Luke slouches on a chair, the poor lighting making his face look ghastly and turning his blond hair almost white. A bottle of bourbon is clutched loosely in his hand, and he brings it up to his lips in order to take a swig.

"Luke," Annabeth says when she approaches him. He doesn't seem to register her; just continues to stare at the bottle in his hand like it can fix all of his problems. She shakes his shoulder. "Brother, get up. It's time to go."

A sigh flows past her mouth when he doesn't react. "C'mon," she grunts as she places his arm around her shoulder, forcing him to stand. "Let's take you home, eh, Brother?"

Mr. Sherman approaches them. His newspaper is tucked under his arm, but Annabeth can still clearly read the year that's printed in bold, black letters: **1891**.

"Do you need any help, Miss Chase?" he offers.

Annabeth shakes her head. "No thank you, Mister Sherman," she replies. "I've just got to get my brother back to his shop. Shouldn't be too hard." Luke slumps against her, taking another swig of his beer. He mumbles something incoherently.

"Okay." Mr. Sherman looks uneasy. "Just be careful. You can never trust a man who's had too much alcohol." With those words of wisdom, he leaves the tavern.

Annabeth gives Argus a thankful smile. "I'll be back tomorrow to pay for…whatever he drank," she promises.

Argus nods in response. Always a man of few words.

Practically dragging him, she leads Luke out of the saloon. She's glad no one is out and about as she helps him stumble down the street. The gossip would never end, and, after what he's been through as of late, she doesn't want him to have to deal with rumors.

She opens the door to his shop, closing it behind them, and, since she knows she isn't strong enough to carry him up the stairs to his living space, places him down on the chair he has behind the counter. She goes around the room, shutting the blinds on the windows, before going upstairs.

When she comes back downstairs, she hands Luke a wad of his clothes. "Here," she says. "Change."

He takes the pieces of cloth in clammy fingers before dropping them in the floor. "No," he pouts, whining like a toddler.

She sighs, digging her palm into her forehead. "Look, Luke," she starts, "I know you're hurting over Thalia getting engaged, but–"

"_You don't know anything_!"

Suddenly, Luke is on his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs. "_You don't know what it's like to be alone! You have NO IDEA what it's like to be COMPLETELY alone_!"

Annabeth jumps back, fear racing up her spine. The hairs on her neck and arms stand on edge. "Brother, please, _calm down_."

"_Calm down_?!" he demands. "_CALM DOWN_?! No! I _won't_ calm down! Do you want to know _why_?! Because Thalia is marrying fucking _Kronos_, and _not me_!"

"Brother–"

"So I'm not going to _calm down_!" he yells. "You know what, Beth? You know what I'm going to do to that-that _bastard_?"

His hand fumbles around his counter drawer before he finally whips out his pistol. Annabeth holds her arms up in a defensive position, eyes fitting around the room for the closest escape, if she really needs one.

"I'm going to shoot him right in the face!" Luke swings his gun around, like he's mimicking aiming it at Kronos.

"Luke!" Annabeth shouts, and he freezes. She lowers her voice speaking slowly. "Put down the gun. This is just the alcohol speaking, alright? You–you're not going to actually put a bullet in Kronos, right?" She takes a deep breath. "Now…just…put the gun _down_."

His face twists in confusion.

Then in anger.

He points the gun right at her. "No," he growls, and then his finger is squeezing the trigger.

And then everything goes red.

;

When Annabeth regains sight again, she's not in Luke's store anymore.

It's someplace cold and damp, even though the sun is rising brightly, and it's somewhere out of town. Birds twitter, almost nervously, above.

She sits up, and there's this sharp pain on her collar bone that's gone as quick as it came. Her hand goes to cover it, though, and she realizes that the front of her dress is completely covered in blood. Not only that, but her skirt is ripped and dirty and her shoes are gone.

What the hell had happened to her?

She stands on shakily legs, practically crawling out of the ditch she had been placed in. The forest surrounds her on all sides, dense and thick and covering her from anyone who might be looking. She can barely see the roof of Argus's tavern over the tops of the trees.

Using the trees around her to help her stumble along, she moves towards the town at an agonizingly slow pace. She just wants to get to town as soon as possible to figure out what happened to her, but her legs feel like led.

When she breaks through the tree line, the sun is up, and the orange hue to the sky is gone, replaced by endless blue.

The towns' people bustle about, but none pay any attention to her, which she finds extremely odd. If she ever saw a girl stumble around the street caked in blood, she'd probably react in some way, or at least notice.

"Lou! Hey, Lou Ellen!" Annabeth shouts when she spots the girl in question, but Lou Ellen gives no indication that she heard her.

_This is probably another one of Lou Ellen's tricks, _Annabeth realizes, grumbling under her breath.

Even though someone roping an entire town into giving a person the silent treatment seems a little far-fetched, Annabeth knows not to underestimate Lou Ellen. Once, she had convinced the entire school into speaking really quietly whenever Silena was around–even Mr. Sherman–to trick her into thinking she was going deaf.

Though the blood? And the waking-up-in-a-ditch thing? That isn't something Lou Ellen would do. Maybe the Stoll brothers had decided to put their own twisted spin on the prank.

Even though neither of these guesses seem plausible, they're the best Annabeth can come up with, and she decides to go with it.

She reaches her house and places a hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door, but instead she…_falls through_ the wood. That's the best way she can explain it. One moment she's outside, the next moment she's passing through the door.

She falls toward the ground, but she flips over last-minute and lands on her back and her braced hands with a shriek. She scrambles backwards, her chest heaving with panic, her heart…

Her heart doing _nothing_.

When she reaches up to press two fingers to the side of her neck, there's nothing. No erratic thumping of her heart. No movement from her artery.

No pulse.

She doesn't have a pulse.

Why doesn't she have a pulse?

Before she can scream again, she hears her mother say, "I'm starting to worry about Annabeth."

Athena stands at the window, looking out wistfully.

"Why, dear?" Frederick sits at the head of the table with his Sunday paper. Malcolm, Matthew, and Bobby eat breakfast on either side of him, shoving at each other and bickering quietly.

"She left for Thalia's late last afternoon and she's…" Athena pauses, taking a deep, calming breath. "…she's still gone."

"What are you talking about, Mother?" Annabeth, knees feeling like jelly, pushes herself up. She moves towards her mother. "Ma, I'm right…" She tries to grab Athena's shoulders, but, just like the door, she passes right through. "…here." She stares at her shaking forearms. "I'm…right here."

"You remember what I told you," Frederick says, monotone, flipping the page. "Argus said she went to make sure Luke was okay."

"I know, but still…" She wrings her wrinkled hands in the cloth she's holding. "I'm just worried, what with that gunshot I heard last night…"

_Gunshot._

It all comes flooding back to Annabeth so quickly she stumbles backwards, feeling like she just got punched between the eyes.

_Thalia's engagement, the saloon, Luke…_

_Oh god, Luke, _she thinks.

_What did you do to me?_

"But what if something happened to her last night?" Athena frets.

"_I'm right here_!" she screams, loud enough that she's sure she was heard in the next town over.

"They can't here you," says a new voice. A voice she's never heard before.

She whips around. A man in a crisp, white tailored suit stands behind her. He has long, silky black hair that spills over his shoulders, and there's a quiver of deadly-looking arrows resting on his back. The strangest part about him is his glowing red eyes, like she's looking straight into the eyes of the devil.

"Who are you?" she demands, clenching her fists. She hasn't fought in a long time, but, when she was smaller and allowed to do such things, she could dominate all the boys at school.

The man doesn't answer her question, but instead carries on with his lecture. "They will never be able to–"

"I asked you a question!" Annabeth shouts, stomping her foot.

"Right," the man says. "I am known by many names, but you may call me Cupid."

"Cupid," she repeats. The name sounds evil on her tongue, especially when she associates it with the man in front of her.

"You will have to get used to it in time," Cupid tells her, like he just read her mind.

"How did you–"

"Before I get to the main point," Cupid says, his voice cold and commanding, "you must understand a few things first.

"No one will ever be able to hear you again, Annabeth Chase, nor will they be able to touch you or see you. You shall never be able to feel the relief of cold water going down your dry throat or shall you taste food ever again. You will never know the troubles of aging or fatigued, but you will be plagued with many nights alone."

For a moment she stares at him.

Then she says one word. "Why?"

"Because," he says simply, "you're dead."

**AN: This is a new story (obviously), as you guys requested after the end of my other story. I have absolutely no idea how long this will be, so, we'll get to that point when we get there.**

**I'm sorry if Annabeth was OOC, but please keep in mind that this is a different time and place. If she were as sarcastic back in 1891 then she is in 2010, she'd probably be whipped or something.**

**I really do hope you enjoyed, and that everything was alright. If not, then please let me know, and let me know what exactly I did wrong instead of just a vague statement.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, and the title for this story was taken from Bastille's _Laura Palmer. _**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews really do mean a lot to me!**


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: I just want to thank all of you for your support and hype for my new story! Seriously. You guys are the **_**best**_**.**

**To PixelArtyGirl1: Thank you! I always try to go for the unexpected… ;)**

**To ShadowsOfATridentTattoo: I know, right? That song is **_**amazing**_**. And, thank you so much for your review!**

**To EvenTheSunsetsInParadise: What'sup, first reviewer? Sorry I made you cry. (But not really. BWA HA HA HA HA HA!) Though it really wasn't my intention. Honestly.**

**2015**

Annabeth stays in an abandoned apartment.

The other apartments in the complex are fine, but this one is cut off from the electricity and pluming. But Annabeth knows that the landlord won't tell the other residents this, and she's fine with it.

It's not like she needs water, anyway. She just needs a place where she can be away from all the noise.

But today she gets dressed bright and early (even though she's a ghost, her clothes _still_ get dirty) because the new neighbors are making quite the racket as they unpack.

She tugs on her last shoe and heads over to the window. Placing her hands on the glass, she phases through and ends up on the fire escape. She hops onto the railing and lets herself fall, if only for a moment, because then she's floating.

Gliding lazily along, she wonders what she's going to do today. Then, she spots thousands of people in line for a ticket booth. There's a concert going on in the amphitheater.

That could be fun. She hasn't been to a concert in about ten years. Wait, no, _twenty_ years. She only saw that Green Day one on TV.

She touches down on the street beside the sidewalk where hordes of people are gathered. A car barrels straight into her, and she phases through it.

"Ugh!" groans a girl with curly red hair. "We've been in this line for _centuries_!"

The Native-American girl next to her chuckles. "It's not _that_ bad, Rach."

"It _is_!" Rach drawls, sounding five levels past bored. "I swear, this is taking so long, we're going to _die_ here, and then our souls will wait in line forever!"

Annabeth rolls her eyes and walks straight into Rach. She passes through her and her friend, strolling casually down the sidewalk. The line causes no challenge for her, as she just walks straight through everyone.

The concert is already happening when she makes it to the main crowd. The music that the band is playing is catchy, but not the best she's ever heard. (She _has_ seen The Beetles _and_ Elvis live before, after all.)

Even though Annabeth is 5' 9" and can see over the masses' shoulders, the best kind of seat is to float in a sitting position right above everyone's heads. It's even better to float at the absolute front of the crowd, right next to the amplifier. She can't destroy her eardrums, anyway, so might as well get the best quality sound.

She nods along with the music, chuckling with herself. People shout and scream below her, jumping up and down excitedly. Annabeth finds it quite amusing.

Though, she guesses, she would probably scream and shout too if she had someone to share in her mirth. She used to.

Well, not _as_ loud. Teenagers seem much louder in 2015 than they were in 1891.

Shaking her head, she focuses on getting back in grove with the music. She closes her eyes, mumbling along to the chorus.

She gets bored with it quickly. Not that the band isn't good; it's just that, if you've had over a hundred years to go and see concerts, you've pretty much seem them all.

She glides out of the amphitheater area, spotting 'Rach' and her friend on her way out. Rach is still complaining out the line, she can tell by the look on her face.

Deciding a walk wouldn't hurt–since she can't get tired, after all–Annabeth touches down a block away from the concert. She strolls down the sidewalk, just watching the living go by.

A college-age couple snuggles on a bench. A business man holds his phone out to his ear, walking straight through Annabeth as he yells at the person on the other side. Three people–brothers, or at least best friends, she assumes–chat eagerly with cups of coffee in their hands.

None of these people interest her. She's done nothing but watched people for a long time now. But then–something catches her eye.

An elderly couple, sitting at a table at a cafe, their wedding rings glinting in the sun. Annabeth freezes, craning her neck to stare at the couple. People pass through her. The couple looks thoroughly pissed at each other, neither of them sparing one glance at their significant other.

The sight claws at Annabeth's heart. She turns away briskly, kneeling in front of the first flower bush she sees. She picks them carefully, making sure they're all the same length. Once she gets enough of them, she tugs the loose string on her shirt she's been meaning to pull out for years, and wraps it around the stems, delicately, yet tightly, tying it into a bow.

She walks over to the elderly couple, bouquet in hand, and slips through the fence that surrounds the cafe.

The elderly man gives no indication that he feels anything when she presses the flowers into his palm. When she pulls her hand away, though, he jumps in surprise, startling his wife, and brings what seemingly fell out of the sky and into his hand to his face for inspection.

His wife spots the bouquet and instantly melts on the spot. "Oh, Tom!" she crows. "You shouldn't've!"

Tom looks at her, startled. "I-I didn–" He stops himself, realizing he could use this. "I did," he says. "Here." He hands the flowers to his wife, who accepts them eagerly with a kiss on the cheek.

Annabeth smiles at them when Tom blushes. His wife busies herself with cooing over the flowers, and he looks up at the sky. "My guardian angel must be looking out for me today," he mutters quietly, and Annabeth's grin only broadens.

Sticking her hands in her pockets, she walks down the sidewalk, feeling like she did some good. Hopefully she helped Tom and his wife on the path to repair their relationship. She hated having to watch the first divorce she ever saw.

The sidewalk becomes dense with people, and Annabeth steps off onto the street. Cars speed through her as she treads along her way.

Then, she hears someone scream, "Ghosts! Ghosts are among us!"

She immediately swerves towards the voice because–c'mon, the guy is _pretty much_ asking for her to go over to him.

The screaming person has an aluminum foil hat on and a sign with the words **SUPERNATURAL DOOMSDAY UPON US **splayed across the ruined cardboard. People just laugh and shake their heads at him.

She grins wickedly. Time to teach these guys a little respect for ghosts…

Walking through a woman with a hat, she picks up rocks before phasing halfway inside the fence behind the screaming man. She aims, and then she throws.

It hits the woman's hat clean off her head. She jerks, her hand going to her hair, glancing around angrily for the culprit. A few other people do, too, but they do it with more wondering. Annabeth tosses another rock.

This one harmlessly bounces off a man's grocery bag, and he completely flips out. "He's right!" the guy exclaims, pointing at the screaming man. "A ghost threw that rock!"

"Oh, come on," complains another guy, taking a drag from his cigarette. "We all know you're in cahoots with that guy right there."

Annabeth aims another pebble. It flies, and it smacks the cigarette out of his hand with a puff of ash. He shrieks like a little girl, jumping away in surprise and fright when he realizes _no one_ threw the rock.

"I'm outta here!" he announces, turning away on his heel and avoiding defeat. All the people, looking uneasy, mutter and leave too, and their pale faces are so funny that Annabeth can't help but burst out laughing.

She comes out of the fence and leans on it, chuckling, telling herself to do this kind of thing more often and not just on Halloween. (Her favorite day of the year, by the way. She's so glad it was invented.)

The sun is going down, she notices when she stops laughing. Better get back to her apartment.

She flies to the complex, landing on the fire escape and phasing through the window. Her clothes are dirty–whatever is not touching a living human being can cling to her–and she changes out of them.

Even though she knows it's futile, she collapses on the makeshift bed she has set up. She curls up on her side, feeling cold and tired and lonely, but unable to go to sleep.

She always tries, though. It's been over a hundred years since she's been able to sleep.

That's why she hangs out in the apartment; to try to fall into slumber. That's the truth. Not _she needs somewhere to put her stuff_.

She just wants to go to sleep. She doesn't want any more lonely nights.

;

**1891**

"What do you mean, _I'm dead_?!" Annabeth demands. She can hear her brothers talking behind her, but her focus is on the man whom just told her something absurd.

"I mean _you're dead_," Cupid insists. "It's just as it sounds."

"But-but how–"

"You know how," he interrupts her.

"Fine, then," she spits. "_Why_?"

"Love can be even worse than death," he states simply. "Your brother is in love, and he was blinded by it. He went to go wash away his troubles with wine, and he ended up spilling blood. Your blood."

"But I-I…" She digs the heel of her palm into her forehead. Then, looks back at Cupid and his glowing red eyes. "But if I'm dead, then where's Heaven? I've never done anything to make God mad, so why am I not in Heaven?"

"That would be your brother's doing, my dear," Cupid tells her, almost a tinge of sympathy to his voice. Almost. He spreads his hands like he's all out of ideas. "He threw your body in a ditch, but didn't bury you. Now, your soul wanders aimlessly, never being able to touch another, searching for something that will make you whole again."

"Wh–"

Frantic knocks sound on the door, and Annabeth glances that way, momentarily distracted. When she looks back at Cupid, he's gone.

"Cupid?" she asks, craning her neck to look for him. "Cupid!" she shouts. "You haven't finished answering my questions, damn it!"

Her mother goes to open the door. "Oh, hello, Luke," Athena says, and Annabeth immediately whips around at the sound of her brother's–her _killer's_–name.

Luke looks horrible. Dark bags sag under his bloodshot blue eyes and his hair is thoroughly messed up. A bloody bandage wraps around his hand. He leans on the doorway, gasping and panting like he ran a marathon.

"Annabeth!" he gasps. "She's in–not moving."

His broken English is enough to send Athena into panic mode. "Where? Where is she?" she demands.

Luke points in a vague direction, coughing and bending over more. "Woods," he manages to force out.

"Frederick! Malcolm! Matthew! Bobby!" Athena shouts for the rest of her family. They're all immediately at her side.

"Wha', Ma?" Matthew asks. "Wha's wrong?"

"There's something wrong with Annabeth," she informs them.

The twins' eyes go wide, and Malcolm blurts, "Wha-what do you mean, there's somethin' wrong with Annabeth?"

"Luke," Athena says to him, not answering her second oldest, "lead the way."

He nods. "Right."

Then they leave, all following Luke, and Annabeth chases after them.

Luke leads them deep into the woods, and she recognizes the path as the one she took when she stumbled out of the ditch. The ditch that Luke put her in.

They have to slow down for Athena, whom has trouble maneuvering around gracefully in her hoopskirts, but they finally get to where Annabeth woke up.

"In there," Luke pants, pointing, and Annabeth gasps.

Her body lays in the grass, printer-paper pale and covered in blood. Crows pick at her limbs, and she and her entire family, except Luke, gags.

She looks down at her arms and legs–the ones she's connected to–with horror. She was separated from her body, too? This…this was getting too weird for her.

"Git off o' her!" Bobby yells at the crows. He, Malcolm, and Matthew run forward, chasing all the birds off of her body.

Athena follows closely behind. She reaches out, almost as if to touch the body, but then she retracts her hand to cover her mouth as her being jerks with a gag. Frederick comes down, too, wrapping his arms around his wife and shielding her from the view.

"My baby!" she sobs into his neck. "What did my daughter ever do to deserve something like this?"

"I don't know," Frederick admits, a few tears of his own tracing down his face as he rubs Athena's back. "I don't know."

The only living Chase that doesn't go into the ditch is Luke. He looks on, a conflicted expression on his face that Annabeth feels like smacking clean off.

Why did he do this to her? Why? _Whywhywhywhywhywhy_?

"We need to take her body back to town," Frederick suggests. "See if the sheriff knows anything about this." Everyone, except Luke, nods in agreement.

The boys take off their over-shirts, and Athena ties them together to make a makeshift tarp. Bobby and Matthew slide it under the body, and Malcolm and Frederick carry it out the ditch. They shift slightly, so that it's easier to carry through the woods, and lead the way.

The twins walk beside Athena, whispering quietly to her and assuring her that they'll find the killer. Luke trails behind, and Annabeth speeds up to join Matthew and Bobby beside their mother.

Even though no one can hear her, (even if they could, she couldn't tell everyone she's alive, because she isn't) it feels good to walk next to her mother. She tries to rub Athena's shoulders in a comforting way, but her hands slip right through her mother's body.

"Matthew, Bobby," Athena says, "run ahead. Fetch the sheriff."

The twins share a look before nodding. "O' course, Ma," says Bobby, and he and Matthew take off.

Luke doesn't move forward to take up comforting their mother. Instead, he stares forward, a passive look on his face.

When he, Frederick, Malcolm, Athena, and (ghost) Annabeth make it through the treeline, the sheriff and the twins are waiting for them.

Mr. Thanatos, the sheriff and Lou Ellen's stepfather, takes a sharp intake of breath when he sees the body. (There's crime in this town, but barely ever a murder mystery.) He takes a step closer, examining it closely. "Bullet wound is the cause of death, I presume," he says. "And whoever killed her must have dragged her a long way." He gestures at the cut feet and the ripped skirt. "Where did you find her?"

Luke clears his throat, shifting on his feet. "We…um…we found her in the woods."

The sheriff peers at him suspiciously. "We are you so nervous, son?"

"Because I just found my sister's _dead body_ in the woods!" he snaps, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders in order to look more confident. "I don't like the idea of murderin' varmints hangin' about!"

"Well," Mr. Thanatos drawls, "I heard that she was at _your_ place last."

"She left durin' the early night," Luke tells him.

"Then why is your hand covered in bloody cloth?" he drills, leaning closer to Luke.

"Because when she left, she was pissed–"

"Luke!" Athena chides him for his language, especially when referring to his dead sister.

"–and she slammed the door, and my beer bottle shattered on the floor, and I had ta pick up the pieces," he says. He leans forward, too, challenging the sheriff. "_I. Didn't. Kill. My. Sister_."

He says it with so much conviction that Annabeth believes him.

At least, she _wants_ desperately to believe him. It'd be much easier to accept her death if she knew it was some random guy off the street who shot her, and not her own brother.

"I'll have to take her body for a bit," Mr. Thanatos sighs, accepting defeat. "Hopefully I can get the bullet out of her. See what kind of gun it belongs to."

Frederick nods. "Of course."

He and Malcolm carry the makeshift stretcher onto the road. People gasp and gape and whisper, wondering why the Chase's only daughter is dead.

Thalia and her fiancé Kronos are some of these people. When she sees the family and the sheriff, she rushes forward, Kronos following closely behind. She lets out something that's halfway between a sob and a gasp, and she cries, "Why? What kind of monster would do this?"

Luke immediately looks pained, like _he's_ the one who died, not Annabeth.

Kronos stares in shock at the body. "I don't know."

She turns to Mr. Thanatos, and, in a breathy, horrified whisper, asks, "Do you know who did this?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, not yet, but we're workin' on it."

"Kronos." Thalia turns to her fiancé, clutching at the labels of his tailored jacket. "You must help with the search."

His eyes widen for the split second, then they return to normal, obviously realizing that the body is Annabeth Chase; his fiancé's best friend and their would-have-been maid of honor.

"Yes, of course," he says. He looks at Mr. Thanatos. "Any money you need to help with the investigation…just come to me."

"That is very generous, Mr. King," he says, nodding. "Thank you."

After that, they all part ways; Thalia and Kronos, the former sobbing uncontrollably, head back to his house, Frederick, Malcolm, and Mr. Thanatos take Annabeth's body around the corner, Bobby and Matthew escort Athena home, and Annabeth follows Luke back to his store.

Maybe Luke _didn't_ murder her. Maybe she had left and she just didn't remember, and some other man killed her.

But then why had Luke been in the woods? There was no reason…Annabeth shakes her head.

_You can poke holes in everything, _her mother had told her when she began to doubt the existence of God. _That's why they call it faith._

And she had faith in Luke. Luke, the guy whom beat some of the school boys up when they picked on Annabeth. Luke, who shared his desserts with her because he knew she had a sweet-tooth. Luke, who let her hang around in the store and taught her Morse code when the teachers wouldn't. Luke, the best big brother ever.

She follows him into the store. He kicks off his shoes and rubs his hand over his face after he shuts and locks the door behind him.

Then, he unwraps the bloody bandage from his hand, placing it next to the not-shattered bottle bourbon. He washes the dried blood off his hand in his water basin, revealing the fact that he doesn't have a cut.

_You can poke holes in everything, _Annabeth repeats to herself. _You can poke holes in everything._

But then, he reaches behind his counter, pulling out his gun and her shoes, laying them down on the flat wood surface. He picks up his gun again, examining it.

"No one can know," he mutters to himself, and Annabeth's un-beating heart drops to her stomach. "No one can ever know."

;

**2015**

Sunlight streams through the window, and Annabeth groans, sitting up straight.

Another night gone by.

Another lonely twelve hours without a wink of sleep.

She pulls herself up, tugging on her favorite pair of jeans and green hoodie. She phases through the window, stepping onto the fire escape and then standing on the railing.

Right when she's about to let herself fall, something…something warm wraps around her waist, preventing her from falling forwards, and she ends up toppling backwards. She lands on top of something soft, yet hard. She flips herself over, finding herself staring at lively sea-green eyes, and having her hand covering warm skin pulled over a beating heart.

She sputters and gasps, wondering if she finally fell asleep, or if this is one of Cupid's tricks, before the guy says, "Whoa! Watch it there!"

**AN: So, I gotta know something; do you want me to continue with the flashbacks, or just have Luke get arrested? Frankly, I'm leaning for more flashbacks, but if it really bugs you guys **_**too**_** much, I'll just wrap up that subplot.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you guys liked this chapter. Any grammatical or spelling errors are on me, since this was not beta'd.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other kind of product I might have mentioned.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews really do mean a lot to me!**


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: …I'm…I'm not even going to make an excuse for not updating in so long. (Especially since I really don't have any excuses.)**

**To Hey: OF COURSE I'm a Stormer! Who in their right mind **_**isn't**_**?**

**To MyLittleBigBangSwitchAtOlympus: That won't be happening for a lil' bit, I think. Need to have **_**some**_** angst, you know?**

**To EvenTheSunsetsInParadise: Even though I already answered **_**you**_** this, I'm gonna tell everybody else so that no one asks again; If it's not touching a living, human being, then it's free game for Annabeth. If an object is just touching her, then they (living people) can't see it. She exists on a different field of reality, per say, and she can take other objects to that field, but not humans. You guys got it? Good.**

**To dolcissimonotappasionato: Really? Thanks! That really means a lot to me!**

**To ShadowsOfATridentTattoo: How do you know it's Percy? It could be… *waggles eyebrows in a way that's supposed to be cool, but probably looks like a suggestive hooker* …Rachel. I mean, she's one of the listed characters. Why do people just assume its Percy?**

**Annabeth has a bit of a potty mouth in this chapter, so, be warned.**

**2015**

"_Whoa! Watch it there!"_

Annabeth rips herself away from him, stumbling onto her feet and clutching onto the railing. If her heart could still pump blood, it'd probably be beating a mile a minute right about now.

Staying frozen in shock, she glances over him. Kind of tan, with black hair, and of course, sea-green eyes. He looks around sixteen, and wears a pair of jeans and a t-shirt a size too big for him that's not flattering _at all_, but it gets Annabeth all flustered.

Maybe it's because he's the first person that seems to be able to see her in over a hundred years.

"You-you can see me?" she gasps, not able to wrap her head around it. How many times had Cupid drilled it into her skull that she would never have contact with anyone ever again? Too many times to count.

"Of course I can see you," he says. "You're a normal human being, aren't you?"

She looks down at the metal beneath their feet, whispering, "No. No I'm not."

"What was that?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says, maybe a little too quickly, but if she's going to be able to talk to someone other than Cupid–even if it _is_ one of his tricks–she's going to do everything in her power to _not_ mess it up.

He holds out his hand to her. "I'm Percy Jackson," he introduces himself. Annabeth just stares at his outstretched limb, and he retracts it awkwardly. "What's your name?"

"I–um–gah–my–" She stops and collects her bearings. "I-I'm Ann-Annabeth."

"Well, hello, then, Annabeth," Percy greets, smiling softly at her. Then he turns serious. "Look, Annabeth, I can't pretend that I know what you've gone through, but I know…I know that suicide isn't the answer."

"What?" she demands. "I-I wasn't…" Then she looks down at the street below them. _I was_, she realizes. This guy here apparently doesn't know she can fly, and he can see her. To Percy, it probably looked like she was jumping from three stories up.

_Great,_ she grumbles in her head. _First person I get to talk to in over a century, and he thinks I'm suicidal. Just perfect._

"Do you have any friends or family I could bring you back to?" he asks softly, his eyes flickering back and forth between her and the railing behind her back, like he's scared she'll try to jump again.

"I don't have any friends," she mutters. She avoids the _or family _part, because, yeah, Malcolm, Bobby, and Matthew all have tons of descendants. She just doesn't know where they all are.

"Then I'll be your friend," he offers, and her eyes snap up to his.

She wonders if he would have the same outlook on the fact if he knew what she _really_ is.

Biting her lip, she reaches forward, wondering if it's creepy when she presses her palm against his chest. But she just needs conformation that this guy right here that's talking to her is alive and warm. She lets out a strangled gasp when his heart beats under her fingertips, and she feels like crying out of relief, because _finally, finally, finally_ she has someone to talk to.

"I'd-I'd like that," she says, twisting her hand in the fabric of his shirt before letting it fall to her side. "I'd really li…love that." She lets out a watery chuckle. "I'd really, _really_ love that."

He smiles at her, not calling her out on her odd behavior. "Great!" he chirps. Then, he arms slide around her shoulders, tugging her close. "Every great friendship starts out with a hug," he states, tightening his arms.

Annabeth stays still for a long moment. The touch of this living human being is completely overriding her senses. With shaky arms, she slowly returns the hug, slipping her hands under his arms and locking her fingers together just over his spine. She presses her chin down on his shoulder, and a sob escapes her throat, because _finally, finally, finally _she has someone to hold.

"Hey, now, Annabeth," Percy sooths, running a hand up and down her back. "This is a happy moment, right? No tears." She finds that funny–since, having no bodily functions, she can't cry–and laughs with a puff of watery breath.

"No. I just…" She shifts her chin on his shirt, so that her mouth presses on the seam, and then moves right back again. "I just don't remember the last time someone's hugged me."

"What?" He gasps, sounding outraged at the thought of someone receiving no hugs. "That's…That's _horrible_!"

"You tell me," she mutters.

"Then we'll have to make this one count!" he proclaims.

He doesn't let go for a long while, probably long enough for it to become awkward, but she's okay with it. She hasn't felt this…this _human_ since she died.

But then, he pulls away, continuing to touch her shoulders, and it feels like warmth is spreading across her skin for the first time in over a century from where his fingertips dig into her.

"How about you and I talk about _this_…" He nods at the railing, but then quickly directs his attention back to her, like he's afraid he gave her an idea. "…over some coffee, yeah?"

_Coffee. _She swipes her tongue over her lips, almost tasting the dark liquid that Argus sometimes gave to her whenever she was at the tavern picking things up for her father. Since Percy can see her…She wonders if she can drink and eat now, too. She hopes.

"S-sure," she says, still a bit taken back by the whole thing.

A grin stretches his lips, and he takes her arm, leading her carefully down the fire escapes, chatting the whole time. "I know where to get the best coffee in town; my friends and I go there all the time. Oh, and you'll have to meet all my friends! And my mom and brother! They'll all be your friends, too, I'm sure. I mean…"

Annabeth stares at the back of his head, fascinated. She's observed human conversation for a long time now, and she's never heard anyone so…interesting. Maybe the reason is because she can _chat back_ to him.

They step out onto the sidewalk, Percy still leading her by the arm. Her breath hitches with amazement when her shoulder slams into a man's side, not phasing through, and he growls at her, "Watch it, girlie." She relishes in the feeling of bumping into other people on the crowded sidewalk.

People can _hear_ her. People can _see_ her. People can _touch_ her.

It's probably the best damn thing that's ever happened to her.

Percy leads her into a charming little café called _Coffee Cloud,_ smashed in between a dress shop and a burger joint that pleads to make her mouth water, but can't. He opens the doors, taking her straight up to the counter.

People crane their heads to look, and Annabeth suddenly feels very self-conscious. The last time she had to worry about other people's opinions…Well, that was a _very_ long time ago. Maybe she's not walking right. Maybe people can smell the zombie on her. Maybe she's translucent, and people are going to call the government to take her down.

It doesn't help her anxiety when she realizes her _clothes have holes in them_. Her hoodie is _practically_ falling apart. When was the last time she washed these? Too long, apparently, she thinks when she takes her next step, the heel of her beat-up sneaker slapping against her sole.

She cringes, but Percy continues to lead her to the counter like he's proud of being next to her.

And he probably is. He thinks that he just saved her life.

"Hey, there, Percy!" greets the barista lady. She looks _kind of_ old (Annabeth really can't comment on peoples ages, so…yeah. _Kind of_), around mid-fifties or so, with a head of wavy dark hair. "Where's the rest of your little crew?"

"Oh, it's just me and my new friend Annabeth today, Mellie," Percy says, gesturing at the blonde.

"Uh–um–Hi!" she blurts, stuttering a little bit. Okay, a _lot_.

"Hello there, dear. Nice to meet you," Mellie says, nodding at her. She turns her attention back to Percy. "Usual?" she asks.

He nods. "You know it."

She picks up a to-go cup, writing down his "usual" on it. Placing it down on counter, she grabs another one, looking at Annabeth with expectant eyes. "And for you, dear?"

"I…uh…" Her eyes scan over all the different flavors and kinds of coffee–expressos, cappuccinos, just a whole lot of drinks ending in _o_. She rolls her shoulders. Better keep it simple. "Just a black coffee for me, please," she requests.

Mellie's eyes widen slightly, like she isn't used to getting this kind of order from (seemingly) teenage girls. "Are you sure, dear?" she questions. "That might be a little…_strong_ for you."

Setting her jaw, Annabeth nods her confirmation. "I'm good," she says. "That's how I used to drink it, when I was aliv–little. When I was little."

Thankfully, Mellie doesn't call her out on her slip up and just scratches down her order, before preparing her and Percy's coffee.

Percy leans on the counter, looking exactly like a stereotypical lazy teenager. She just kind of…stares at him. In awkward silence. For a little while.

"Well," he starts, searching for a conversation, "I'm, uh, I'm sixteen, and my favorite color is blue." He cocks his head at her. "Your turn to share."

When she doesn't respond, he says, "Not any deep stuff. We'll go outside for that, if your uncomfortable talking about…_it_…in here. This is just normal friend stuff right now. You know, skimming before we dive in?"

She blinks at him. Are people always this…considerate? "I…I don't know what to tell," she confesses.

"Favorite color," he suggests. "Last name."

"Green," she answers immediately.

_Green?_ she asks herself.

_Green. _Sea_ green, _her brain confirms, locking onto Percy's bright eyes. _Yeah…Just like that. That green._

"And, Chase," she says, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "My last name is Chase."

"Annabeth Chase," he says, testing the words out on his tongue. She doesn't know about him, but she sure as Hades loves her name coming out of his mouth. He beams at her. "Nice name. Pretty…and all that jazz."

Pink tints his cheeks from the whole _pretty_ comment. He rolls his shoulders. "Age?"

"I…" She hesitates. There's really no easy way to tell a guy you're 140 years old without him questioning your sanity, is there? "Sixteen," she answers, giving him the age she was murdered at.

"Cool! Then you're my age!"

_Not even close, _she thinks, but nods anyway. "Yeah."

"Here you two go." Mellie hands Percy their coffees once he turns around to face her.

"Thanks." He gives Annabeth hers', and fishes out his wallet to pay the barista. They start walking out. "See you later, Mellie!"

"Goodbye, Percy! Tell Rachel I said 'Hi'!"

He opens the door for them. "Will do!"

They step outside again. He leads her down the street, back to the apartment complex, taking sip of his coffee as he goes. Annabeth cradles the cup to her chest, making a quick wish before taking a swig.

Nothing. She can't taste it. She doesn't feel the relief of the warm liquid going down her throat.

She scowls, shoving her free hand into her hoodie pocket. There goes hoping.

"Don't you like it?" Percy asks.

Her eyes snap up to his. "Yeah," she says, smiling fakely, only because he bought for her. She takes another pointless sip. "It's great."

He ducks into an alleyway without warning, and she has no choice to follow. He plops down against a wall, patting the cement next to him as an invitation. She takes it.

Their arms lightly touch when she sits down, but it's enough to send her into overdrive. He just smiles at her, like he isn't affected by the contact at all.

Then he turns serious. "Please, talk to me," he says quietly. "Why were you gonna jump?"

_To fly. _She stares at her ratty sneakers, trying to formulate a lie to spin. Apparently, he senses her reluctance, and starts speaking.

"My dad died," he states soberly.

"Hmm?" Annabeth glances up to look at him.

"Yeah," he continues. "Me, my mom, and my brother, a couple months after he died, we all moved to a different apartment because the last one was filled with too many memories." He chuckles almost nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. "We're still unpacking. Especially me."

"So you're the ones making all the noise," she breathes. His eyes widen.

"What? Am I keeping you and your family up?" he asks hurriedly.

She hugs her knees close to her chest, setting her chin on top of them. She reaches forward to flick a pebble across the alleyway. "I don't sleep."

"Oh. Okay." He doesn't seem to know how to reply to that, so he just keeps talking. "We didn't move far, thankfully, because we don't have the money to do that. My friends and girlfriend are there for me, so I can be there for Tyson, my little brother, and my mom.

"My mom tries to be strong for me and my brother, but…Sometimes, you have to let other people help you."

It's obviously a hint. She doesn't take it.

He mirrors her position. "How about your parents?"

She flicks another rock. It bounces off of a trashcan with a hollow _clang_. "My parents are dead," she tells him, monotone.

"Then…" He's struggling, she knows. "Any…older siblings?"

"Two older brothers, two younger brothers…"

Percy brightens a tad bit. "Then how about you introduce me to th–"

"…all dead," she finishes.

Then he deflates. "Oh."

Silence.

"Then…how are you living in an apartment? And not, you know, an orphanage? Well, I assume you live in an apartment at the same complex I'm in, since you were on the fire escape and you said about how we're making noise and…"

"The apartment that I hang out in is cut off from the plumbing and electricity," she interrupts him. "The landlord doesn't rent it out, and he sure as hell won't tell anybody about it. I sneak in through the window."

More silence.

"Why'd you try to jump?" he asks bluntly, stopping with the tactics to get her to admit it on her own.

"Well, I…" She flicks another rock, planning out what she should say.

"I don't have any friends, Percy. I have been _alone_ for so long, that I barely see the point on why I exist in this…this _oblivion_ of constant isolation."

"You could have gone out," he tells her softly, "made friends."

She laughs bitterly. "No. I really couldn't've," she mutters.

He reaches over, squeezing her arm reassuringly. She looks back at him with surprise clearly written on her face. "Well, you just made one," he states.

Then he stands, and she does too. "I should be heading home," he says. "I…How about tomorrow morning I'll introduce you to my family, yeah?"

"Uh…Sure."

He gives her another beaming smile. "Cool!" He heads out of the alleyway, before stopping and craning his neck to look at her. "Pro…promise me you won't try to jump again? Please?"

She contemplates it for a moment, staring at her shoes, taking it all in.

Then she looks back up at him with a light smile.

"Yeah. Yes. I won't jump again, I promise."

;

**1882**

"Mama!" Annabeth complains, squirming in her Sunday dress. The heat of the Thursday afternoon makes the stiff color of her garment almost unbearable as she walks by her mother's side.

"Mother," Athena corrects.

"Mother," Annabeth echoes. She opens her mouth to continue, but Athena beats her to it.

"And try not to fiddle too much, dear," she advises. "You'll wrinkle your dress."

She puffs out her cheeks, folding her arms over to chest. "Why is it just us going? Shouldn't the boys be comin' too?"

Frederick laughs, reaching forward to ruffle her hair, but let's his hand fall back to his side at Athena's obvious _I spent hours on that. Do not mess it up _glare. "Because, pumpkin, this is Father's old professor, and we need to impress him," he starts. "The boys just wouldn't be putting the cute front that we can get from you."

"Plus," Athena cuts in, "Luke _does_ need to start learning how to take care of children, and Malcolm and the twins are a good start. He's already fourteen; isn't long before he marries off to some pretty girl and has children of his own."

"Ewwwwww." Annabeth wrinkles her nose at the thought of her older brother getting all lovey-dovey with one of the town girls. A sickening vision of him smooching Lou Ellen fills her mind, and she shudders.

Her father chuckles as they step onto the train station platform. "Look, Annabeth!" Frederick directs her attention to a tall, burly man with a beard. Two children stand at his side; a blond-haired boy clutching a suitcase too big for him and a black-haired girl wearing a fine blue lawn dress. "There's Mr. Grace!"

They make their way over to them. "Hello, Zeus!" Frederick greets, and Mr. Grace turns to look at him.

"Ah, Frederick! So good ta see ya," Mr. Grace returns. They clasp hands in a welcome. Mr. Grace glances at Athena. "This be ya're lovely wife Athena, eh?"

"Yes."

"Pleasure ta meet ya, milady," Mr. Grace says. His eyes skim over Annabeth, and she grabs onto Athena's hand, hiding halfway behind her skirt.

Mr. Grace is kinda scary.

"Ya're daughter Annabeth, I assume?" Mr. Grace guesses.

"I only have one daughter," Frederick jests. He nudges Annabeth forward. "Go say hi to Mr. Grace."

Hesitantly, she steps out from behind her mother, knowing how much this means to her father. She takes Mr. Grace's outstretched hand. "Hi," she mumbles.

"Pleasure ta meet ya," Mr. Grace says, shaking her hand before letting go and pushing his kids forward. "Annabet', this is my son, Argus, and my daughter, Thalia."

She inspects them. Argus is kind of cute–like in the way that a rabbit is cute, because she's _way_ too young for boys–with golden-blond hair much like her own, but straight, and electric blue eyes that match his father's and sister's. Thalia looks around nine and also uncomfortable in her hot Sunday dress, fidgeting and brushing her pretty raven hair behind her ear.

She grins at them. "My name's Annabeth!" she announces, though it's kind of redundant.

Thalia perks a little at her friendliness. "Thalia," she returns, though, again, pointless, since her father already introduced her.

Argus blushes and shuffles on his feet. "H-hi," he says, waving. He looks extremely flustered.

"Annabeth, dear," Athena says softly, "how about you show Thalia and Argus the way to the house? Your father, Mr. Grace, and I will be close behind."

"Okay!" Annabeth chirps. "C'mon! Follow me!"

She runs off, and Argus and Thalia have no choice but to follow. They slow down a bit when they get farther down the road.

"Where's your mother?" Annabeth questions, realizing there isn't a Mrs. Grace.

"Oh." Argus sniffles, scuffing a rock under his shiny black shoes. "She-she died."

"Yeah." Thalia nods. "Papa said he moved us here so that we could get away from all the bad memories."

"That's okay!" Annabeth says. "We can share my mother!"

Argus looks up. "Really?" he whispers.

"Yeah! Now, come on, you slowpokes! I still need to introduce you to my brothers!"

They run the rest of the way, laughing and squealing joyously. When they make it to the house, Luke is in front, raking leaves.

"Luke!" Annabeth crows, coming to a stop. The Graces come in right behind her. "These are my new friends! This is Argus, and–"

Luke leans on his rake, extending his hand toward Thalia. "I'm Luke," he says.

She shakes his hand. "Thalia. My name's Thalia."

The pair stares at each other, transfixed, and if only Annabeth had known she'd practically signed her death warrant.

;

**2015**

Annabeth stays in the alleyway a long time after Percy leaves. She stares at nothing, trying to process what had happened today.

How come people can see her? Why did they start hearing her after Percy showed up?

Her head whirls with unanswered questions. It's giving her quite the vertigo.

When she finally leaves, she trips on a rock in the entry way and falls forward. A woman walks in front of her, and she cringes at the thought of knocking her over, but she phases right through, falling on the sidewalk with an _oomph_.

Nobody pays her any attention, even though she just passed through a person. She stands up, reaching over to tug on the woman's sleeve. "Hey, you okay?" she asks, but the woman pays her no attention, and her fingertips go straight through her elbow.

No one can see her anymore.

"_Damn it_!" she bellows, punching the closest wall to her. Again no one pays her any attention.

She slides down the wall, putting her head in her hands.

It was all a trick. Being able to be heard, touched, seen was all a trick. Percy…was a trick.

She wants to cry. She wants to cry _so_ badly. But, she can't.

"Cupid," she whispers. Then, louder, she says, "Cupid!"

Cursing him the entire way, she flies up onto the building she punched. Once she lands, she cups her hands around her mouth and shouts at the sky, "Come down! Damn it, Cupid! I need to talk to you!"

After getting no answer except for her own echo, she gets ready to shout again. But then the air ripples beside her, and Cupid's standing next to her.

"_What the hell, Cupid_?!" she explodes.

"Ah." He raises a black, almost slimy-looking eyebrow at her. "I see you found my surprise. Did you like it?"

"Like it?" She launches herself at him, but the air ripples again and suddenly he's out of the way. She tumbles to the ground, grunting, before pulling herself back up. "_Like it_? You messed with my head! I thought that people could actually _see_ me!"

"They could," he tells her. "And they still can, as long as you're around Percy Jackson."

She scowls in confusion, clenching her fists. "Wha–"

He holds up his hand to her, and she shuts up, not out of her own free will. He waggles his finger, and then she can't move, like she's made out of a clay that only he can manipulate.

"Much better," he breathes in relief. "Hmm…where was I? Right." He circles around her once until he ends up in front of her again. "Now, you must know by now that I am much, much older than you. And, as you also know, it gets old, seeing the same things over and over again without much change.

"Then, I had this _brilliant_ idea. What if I had some fun by messing with a soul?" He directs a look at her, letting her know that she's the soul he talking about.

"But first, I needed a soul that I could snatch before it went to the afterlife. So, I took control of someone in love, since I _am_ Cupid, and that's what I do, and I twisted his thoughts so that he killed a young girl, and I claimed her soul."

Annabeth's eyes widen.

(Or, at least, they would have, if she could still move a single muscle.)

Rage courses through her veins, filling the void of blood. So _Cupid_ killed her? _Not_ Luke?

"Yes, Annabeth Chase." Cupid locks his red eyes onto her grey ones. "If I hadn't, as kids these days say, _screwed with_ your brother, then you would have walked away from that night, scratch-free.

"You would have got a very drunk and depressed, not angry, Luke to bed, and you would have gone home to find your family eating dinner. The next day, you wouldn't have woken up in a ditch, but your own bed. You would have helped Luke get over Thalia by setting him up with Lou Ellen. You would have served as Thalia and Kronos's maid of honor, and you would have ended up marrying Argus, siring a couple children of your own. Because of you, women would have been able to vote _six years_ before they did. Your children would have all gone on to be successful, and you would have died peacefully in your sleep at the age of eighty-three."

He pauses for a moment, letting her have some time to take it all in.

"But what fun is that?" he asks. "No, I changed your fate to make sure that it was fun. For me, at least."

He steps closer to her, and how she wishes to throw herself at him and beat him to death. "Only when you are around Percy Jackson is when other people can see you. Why, you would ask? Well…

"To be able to grow old, to be able to live, to, when you die again, be able to go to the afterlife," he starts, licking his lips, "you have to make Percy Jackson fall in love with you.

"That is your…_conquest_. So that you may be released from this oblivion, you must get Percy Jackson to fall in love with you."

**AN: Okay, you're right. It **_**was**_** Percy. :) You guys called it.**

**Sorry if my café terminology is bad, but I don't like coffee nor tea, so I really don't hang out around Starbucks too often.**

**Plus, apparently I semi-ship Argus/Annabeth. And Luke/Lou Ellen. (Suddenly this is turning into a place where crack-ships are born.) So…super sorry if I put **_**images**_** in your head. I sure put some in mine, and all are bad. *shudders* *whispers* Why did I do that?**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any errors, please tell me what they are so I can fix them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other product I might have mentioned.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews really do mean a lot to me!**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: I wrote this entire thing listening to Justin Timberlake's **_**Rock Your Body**_**. Good song, but in no way does it relate to the plot at **_**all**_**. It's always weird when you listen to a song that has nothing to do with what you're writing, isn't it? XD**

**To Nyuko: Pure evil? That's… … …EXACTLY RIGHT! BWA HA HA!**

**To ShadowsOfATridentTattoo: I don't have a problem with me using curses; I just put the potty-mouth thing because I've seen a few stories where the characters curse once or twice, and the reviewers completely blow up. So…yeah. It's just a warning.**

**To EvenTheSunsetsInParadise: o_O I hope you didn't hurt yourself! Geez, you're making me start to think I should have people sign a waiver or something…**

**To SergioAguero: MCDONALD'S; I'M LOVIN' IT! :D**

**2015**

Early next morning, a knock sounds on Annabeth's window.

A _knock_. On her _window_.

She pulls herself up from another depressing night with no sleep, heading over to the window. When she peers at it, she sees Percy grinning like a maniac on the other side.

Confusing emotions fill her. She really does like Percy, and she really, really likes talking to him. But whenever she things about him, she remembers Cupid's game. It isn't Percy's fault, she knows, but…

"_No, I changed your fate to make sure that it was fun. For me, at least."_

That gets her angry. Three steps past angry. It gets her _really_ pissed off, knowing that she could have lived her life without a hundred years of unbearable solitude. Then what's even worse is that all this time she thought it was _Luke's_ fault she wandered this world alone for so long.

"_So that you may be released from this oblivion, you must get Percy Jackson to fall in love with you."_

That makes her kind of sad, because Percy seems like a good guy, and she has to take advantage of him by making him fall in love with her. Then she has no idea if she'll get to actual live for a long while, or if she'll die instantly and leave him heartbroken.

"_My friends and girlfriend are there for me…"_

Yep. Percy's line take's the cherry on top. He's got a _girlfriend_. That means there's someone Annabeth has to take him from, just like how Kronos stole Thalia away from Luke.

Realizing it might be a little creepy, just staring into space like she is, and she shakes herself out of her thoughts. She turns to Percy and opens the window. He crawls through, landing on his feet with an excited huff.

"Hey, Annabeth!" he says, wrapping his arms around her in a friendly hug. Annabeth has a feeling that these kind of embraces will be his greeting for her, at least when his _girlfriend_ isn't around. He pulls back. "I'm inviting you to breakfast with me and my family."

Her eyes widen, and she lurches forward slightly. "Wh-what?"

"I said I'm inviting you to breakfast."

"I know," she grumbles under her breath.

She wants to accept his invitation. But this is what _Cupid_ wants.

A show.

A game.

_Entertainment_.

Louder, she says, "No."

"C'mon," he presses. "My mom made blue pancakes! And her famous hash browns! I mean, seriously. If we don't get up there right now, then all the food will be eaten." She shakes her head.

Then, he lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning close like they're sharing a secret in a crowded room. "If you're worried about…_it_…then don't; I only told my mom about it, and she wouldn't tell a soul. No one else knows, I promise."

She stares at him. That's so…_considerate_ of him. She certainly doesn't want his little brother to know about her (mistakenly thought of as) suicidal tendencies.

Most teenagers she's watched over the years would jump at a piece of gossip like this. They'd immediately spread it around their school or home to knock the suicidal person down a few pegs for personal gain, thinking it will make them more popular. (It usually always does, but also comes with another suicide attempt, and possibly blood, on their hands.)

But not Percy, apparently.

"Fine."

The word slips out of her mouth before she can stop it. She cringes, wrapping her arms around her frame and drawing her knees together, but there's no going back now.

"Fine," she repeats, "I'll go."

His face lights up like Christmas. He brushes a lock of black hair out of his eye before grabbing onto her arm. No chance to escape now, then.

"Great!" he crows, dragging her out the window and onto the fire escape, much like the day before, instead of leads her up the ladder. "Mom can't wait to meet you! Don't worry; everyone'll love you. Tyson likes everyone, and I have the feeling that you and Jason, my cousin, are a lot alike, so you'll click instantly."

They stop on the floor just above Annabeth's, and Percy goes to open the window.

_Okay,_ she tells herself in her head, _you can handle this. You've thought of lies about you're past in hopes you might get to talk to someone for a while now. You got this, Chase._

He pushes up the window, jumping into the apartment, and she takes a deep breath before joining him. She nearly falls when her ratty sneaker (she collapsed in her clothes the night before, not bothering to change after her world was turned upside down) snags on the sil, not used to going through windows without phasing, but she quickly recovers.

She hops down on the wood floor next to Percy.

There a lot more people than Annabeth expected, and she almost stumbles in surprise.

A small boy with ratty brown hair clutches onto the jeans of an olive-skinned girl, obviously vying for her attention, but it's being given to a girl around Percy's age with fiery red hair. Another boy, this one older, chats with a golden-eyed girl and a tall boy sporting close-cropped blond hair.

All eyes turn to her and Percy, and she feels like hyperventilating. She just–She hasn't been stared at by this many people in a while, okay? It's kind of imitating.

The small boy runs over to her with a shout of excitement, throwing himself at her. For a moment, she's scared that he'll phase right through her, but her hands make contact when they go to catch him.

"Hi! You must be Annabeth!" He gives her a toothy grin, his front teeth missing in a way that's unbelievably endearing. He large brown eyes give off a blissfully innocent look, but she can see the matureness hidden beneath childhood mirth. "I'm Tyson!"

"I, uh." One of her arms is curled around his lower back, while her other hand clutches at his arm to make sure he doesn't fall. "Ummm…"

"Oh, Tyson," an older woman scolds, coming out of the kitchen. She has lively blue eyes, an equally lively smile, and curly brown hair held up in a ponytail. "Don't crowd her."

Tyson laughs, hopping off of Annabeth like a pro. There's a smudge of dirt on his arm where her hand had been, and she's suddenly feeling very self-conscious, cleaning her hands on her ugly hoodie. She hasn't taken a bath in, like, _forever_.

The woman smiles at her before tackling her with a hug. First Percy, then Tyson, and now their mother…Greeting hugs must run in the family, or something.

"Hi!" she chirps, pulling away but keeping her hands on placed on her shoulders. "I'm Sally Jackson. Percy's told me all about you!"

She feels like blushing. Too bad she can't (or maybe it's a good thing), having no bodily functions and all. "Uh…Hi."

"Don't crowd her, Mom," Percy mocks. Sally sends him a look, air-flicking him, but removing herself from Annabeth all the same. "Let's introduce you to the rest of the group, shall we?"

He encourages her closer to the rest of the people. He points at the olive-skinned girl, then at the boy with matching black hair and eyes. "That's Bianca di Angelo, and that's her little twin brother, Nico. Their half-sister is Hazel Levesque."

Hazel, the golden-eyed girl with dark skin and curly cinnamon hair, waves at her shyly. "Hi."

"That right there is Jason Grace," Percy tells her, nodding at the tall boy with blond hair and sky blue eyes.

A jolt races up Annabeth's spine. Is Jason somehow related to Thalia? She wants to ask, but…Well, questioning someone about their great-something grandmother by name might give off a stalker-ish vibe.

"They're all my cousins," Percy announces. Then he smiles broadly at the only one left unintroduced. "That's Rachel Elizabeth Dare. My girlfriend."

"Hey, there! Nice to meet you." Rachel smiles at Annabeth, walking over and shaking her hand, and guilt clogs up her throat. This girl with bright green eyes, thousands of freckles, and curly orange hair will be the one Annabeth might steal Percy from.

Somehow, she finds her voice before Rachel drops her hand. "I, uh…The name's Annabeth. Annabeth Chase."

;

**1891**

Athena cries.

That's pretty much all she does for the rest of the day. Sobs on her bed.

Bobby and Matthew let loose a few tears, too.

Matthew grabs the plates while setting the table for dinner, and then Bobby has to tell him that they only need six, not seven. That's when they start crying, running to their mother for some comfort.

When Frederick and Malcom come home, Malcolm goes to join Athena and the twins, and Frederick sits down on his chair, his head in his hands, not moving for the next couple hours.

Annabeth feels bad as she watches, knowing that her family's sorrow is because of her. She places a kiss on her father's forehead, of course the touch not connecting.

Then it all becomes too much for her, and she runs out of the house. She takes quick breaths, hyperventilating, but she doesn't feel air going to her lungs.

"Why can't you jus' tell us what's wrong?"

She looks in the direction of Katie's voice. She and Silena follow a red-eyed, sniffling Thalia. Annabeth immediately goes to them.

"Yes, Thalia, dear," Silena says, "keeping things bottled up isn't good for your complexion." Thalia furiously wipes a tear away from her eye. "Is this about Luke?" she asks. "If it is–"

"Fine!" Thalia shouts, spinning around to face them. She stops so quickly that Katie nearly trips over her. A few people on the street crane their necks to look at them. "I was going to bring you to a less crowded area to tell you, but I guess I'll just tell you now! Annabeth's–"

Her voice breaks off with a sob, and Katie and Silena obviously get the gist that something bad has happened. Silena's expression softens. "Annabeth, what?"

Katie nods. "Did she say she hated you? Did she quit being your maid of honor?"

"Ooh," Silena says. "Don't tell me!" She continues in a whisper. "…Did she start courting your brother?"

"Annabeth's dead!" Thalia finally blurts. She presses the heels of her palms to her eyes and weeps brokenly.

The two girls stumble back, shock written all over their faces. "_What_?" Silena whispers harshly.

"Luke–" Thalia cuts herself off with a sob. She regains her composure, continuing with hiccups and deep, watery breaths.

"Luke said he found her body in the woods. Bl-blood was everywhere. The person that dragged her-her out there stole her shoes, and her dress was all ripped from be-being hauled through the woods. Oh, God, she's dead!"

Katie stays completely still, not moving a muscle while she tries to register this new information. Silena collapses right there on the sidewalk, crying her eyes out.

Pain twists at Annabeth's heart. She wants to cry, too. She tries really, really hard. But she can't. Her phantom-body-thing won't let her.

She turns on and heel and walks away, frustrated noises coming from the back of her throat. She heads down the street to Mr. Thanatos's house. Maybe he'll have some answers about her murder for everyone else.

Once she gets there, she places her hands on the wood of his door, concentrating hard to remember how phasing felt like. She grasps onto that thought, squeezes her eyes shut, and–

She's inside the house.

There's a blanket thrown over something in the corner, and Annabeth has a sickening feeling it's her body, judging by the lumpiness of the object and the trail of blood leading to it. Mr. Thanatos, Mrs. Thanatos, and Lou Ellen all sit at the dark wood table.

"Why is it all smashed up like a flapjack, Father?" Lou Ellen inquiries, prodding at a flattened bullet that sits on the table. Her bottom lip trembles and red brims her eyes.

"Lou Ellen Thanatos," her mother, Hecate, chides, smacking her hand away. "That just came out of a dead body! Don't poke at it."

"Sorry, Ma," Lou Ellen says, placing her hands on her lap.

"Because the bullet hit her spine," Mr. Thanatos answers her earlier question. "It crumbled up from the force, but that doesn't mean her spine wasn't fractured, too. That means I ain't going to find out what gun it belongs to anytime soon."

"That's…disgusting."

"What's disgusting is that dead body." Mrs. Hecate gags, fanning her face with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. "No offence to Annabeth, the poor dear." She stands up. "But I cannot take another minute down here with a dead body. You got the bullet out, Letus; give the poor girl's body back to her family." And, with that, she goes upstairs.

"Yes, of course." Mr. Thanatos stands up, too, sighing. He goes over to the lump in the corner. "I'm going to take this back to the Chase's. Are you going to be fine, dear?"

"Yes, Father," Lou Ellen mumbles. Mr. Thanatos nods, picking up the stretcher, and, with the blanket still on it, heads outside.

After he's gone, Lou Ellen picks the bullet up, examining it with curious eyes.

"Somethin's fishy here," she mutters to herself. "Why would Luke be wanderin' all alone in the woods with an injured hand?

"It just ain't addin' up." She turns the chunk of metal over, laying it in the middle of her flat palm. Determination flares in her purple eyes. "And I'm gonna get to the bottom of it."

;

**2015**

Rachel grins. "Nice name, Annabeth."

"Uh, yeah. You…too?" Annabeth replies hesitantly. She glances at Percy, giving her a _help me_ look, but he just smiles and shrugs.

"Breakfast is ready!" Sally announces. "Percy, Jason–help, please."

The cousins disappear into the kitchen, and Annabeth has this horrifying thought that maybe _she'll_ disappear, too.

But, apparently, Percy's still close enough to her that her soul stays in physical form. Rachel, Tyson, Nico, Bianca, and Hazel don't yell out that she's fading, at least.

Jason and Percy come back out of the kitchen, the former carrying the hash browns, the latter holding a plate of oddly blue pancakes. They set the plates on the large dining table, and everyone sits down. Annabeth ends up in between Hazel and Tyson. Everyone digs in, except for her.

"Don't you like it?" Sally asks worriedly, her eyebrows drawn together.

"Hmm? No, it's great," Annabeth says, picking up her fork. She cuts and stabs a chunk of blue pancake, putting it in her mouth. It gives no kind of sensation to her taste buds, and she can't feel it when she swallows. "It's really good. Thank you, Ms. Jackson."

"Oh please, call me Sally, dear."

"Right…Sally."

The older-looking woman smiles, and Annabeth piles some hash browns on her fork.

"So…" Nico starts awkwardly. "How did you and Percy meet?"

She and Percy share a look. "Well, um–"

"He spilled my expresso on my shirt at Coffee Cloud," Annabeth cuts him off. "He…um…bought me a new one. …A new expresso that is, not shirt."

"He's such an adorkable, clumsy idiot," Rachel says, leaning over to place a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek. His cheeks tint pink.

"Yeah," Annabeth mutters, shoving the hash browns in her mouth.

"Where do you go to school?" Jason asks.

"I…don't go to school," she admits. Can't really go to school when no one can see you. "I want to, though."

At everyone's questioning looks, she explains further. "I'm an orphan. No parents to administer me into school."

"Oh." Hazel's eyes are wide. "When did they die?"

"Oh, come on, Haze," Rachel scolds, mock-smacking her upside the head. "Leave her alone. She probably doesn't want to talk about it."

"Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Hazel apologizes, ducking her head.

Annabeth shrugs. "It's fine. They died a long time ago."

Silence fills the table.

Until Rachel breaks it. "What do you like to do, Annabeth? Hobbies? Skills?"

_Hobby: People-watching (pretty much the only thing she can do in this state of suspended animation). Skills: Phasing, being dead._

None of these are things she really wants to share, so she just blurts the first thing that comes to mind: "Music."

"Really?" Rachel asks eagerly. "What kinds of music do you like?"

"Umm…All of them?" she suggests with a slight raise of her shoulders. She's liked all the music over the years; '60's music, '70's (except for disco, of course. That was a bad phase for humanity), '80's, '90's, and now the 2000's. All is great.

"I _have_ to show you the stuff on my iPod!" the redhead exclaims. "C'mon!"

"Oh, no, I'm fine."

But Rachel has already latched onto her arm, dragging her out of her seat and over to the couch. Rachel grabs her iPod out of her bag, already scrolling through the music to find a particular song.

"I saw these guys in concert a couple days ago," she gushes. "I almost had a level ten fangirl attack when the lead singer pointed right at me."

"O-Kay…?" Suddenly, an image of Rach and her brunette friend fills her mind. "Wait! I passed by you at that concert."

"Really?" Rachel's eyes snap up to hers'. She nods. "So you're a fan of theirs', then." She grins widely. "I can already tell you and I are going to be the best of friends."

A smile plays on Annabeth's lips, too. "Yeah. Totally."

"How about you join us at the mall tomorrow?" Rachel suggests, and Annabeth's eyes widen. "Percy and me and everyone else will be there, too, plus a couple of our other friends."

"Yeah!" Percy shouts from the table. "You should come! It'll be great!"

"Sure." The confirmation slips out of her mouth, and she groans mentally. Why can't she say no to Percy?

"Great!" Percy and Rachel say at the same time.

She looks in between the two.

They seem like good people, and they seem good together. Why did Cupid have to mess with her life all those years ago?

If he hadn't, then Annabeth would've been married happily and without conflict–not a part of a dramatic love triangle.

**AN: Kinda bad, kinda rushed, and all-around short. I'm not really proud with this one.**

**But hopefully you guys liked it!**

**I WANT TO MAKE SOMETHING CLEAR: ****RACHEL in no way at all is the bad guy. CUPID is, okay? So please don't start hating on her for "stealing Percy away from Annabeth," because I have made it VERY clear that Annabeth is the one doing the stealing. I hope to make Rachel an awesome character that gets you guys that aren't already to fall in love with Rick Riodan's version of her. Okay? Okay.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any errors, please tell me what they are so that I can fix them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other kind of product I might have mentioned.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews really do mean a lot to me!**


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Ugh, school. Ugh, family. Ugh, work. Most of you probably get where I'm coming from on those three sentences.**

**I've been really busy with wrapping up school for this semester (only three days left! Thank god!), and my family kind of needs a lot of my attention now. I have also gotten a new job, and I've just been trying to get my writing schedule to fit in with my new shifts.**

**So, I'm sorry if this chapter is really crappy. It's definitely **_**not**_** my best work, and I was going to rewrite it, but then I'm like, **_**It's already been a **_**month**_**. Better not keep 'em waiting any longer.**_

**To ShadowsOfATridentTattoo: Thank you! And testing sucks, am I right? One of the reasons I didn't write a longer chapter…**

**To Blumblebeerlawl: I do too. (Obviously.) It's kind of sad how much hate Rachel gets. Now, I admit, whenever someone starts moving in on my OTP, I'm like, **_**Whoa, there, buddy. Okay. Three steps back now. **_**But I never hate a character just because I want the person s/he has a crush on to be with someone else. And you guys got to admit: We've **_**all**_** had a crush on Percy Jackson one time or another.**

**(And if Rachel Elizabeth Dare gets all this hate for just liking Percy, then we should hate Nico di Angelo, too, right? **_**He**_** liked Percy the same way that **_**she**_** liked Percy. (Bam! I got you there, eh, Rachel-haters?))**

**To PixelArtyGirl1: Thanks for the idea, but if I were to delve into reincarnation, then this story would get all kinds of messy. So…I'm just going to leave Annabeth as the only dead-but-kinda-alive-but-not person here.**

**To EquineLover55: I don't think I really have a **_**style**_**, per say. It's just English, right? I'm naturally sarcastic, so that kind of…bleeds into my writing? I guess? But, you know, thank you!**

**VERY IMPORANT****: There **_**will**_** be Perachel. They **_**are**_** boyfriend and girlfriend after all, so I'd hope that you'd have guessed that.**

**2015**

Annabeth frets over her outfit for a long while.

She doesn't need to sleep, so, all night, she goes through her closet, looking for something that doesn't have a hole in it or a stain on it.

Nothing. She finds nothing. She searches all night, and finds nothing.

For all these years, she hasn't grown or changed one bit, so she's never needed to go out and get clothes until hers were nearly in tatters. The last time she went shopping, taken something off the rack…That must have been back in the eighties.

Her clothes were from the eighties, and she's going out with teenagers born in the late nineties/early two thousands. She's totally _not_ going to stick out like a sore thumb.

Most of her shirts were some horrible combination of zebra stripes and neon colors, and her pants were all bell bottoms.

Finally, she cut her jeans until they were shorts, and she decided to wear that ugly brown knitted sweater that she hadn't touched in years. Better to wear just plain old ugly than _eighties_ ugly.

Just as she's tying up her hair, there's a knock on her window. She opens it to let in Percy Jackson and Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

"Are you ready to go to the mall?" Rachel asks eagerly.

"Well…" She looks down at her outfit. "You know what? I think I'm gonna go change."

Percy stops her with a hand on the elbow. "Don't be silly, Annabeth."

"Yeah." Rachel nods in agreement. "You look just fine."

Annabeth bites her lip, not entirely meeting their eyes. "Really?"

"Really," she says, and Annabeth smiles. She latches onto her arm, dragging her to the window. "Now, c'mon! I'm driving!"

They climb out onto and down the fire escape, going out to the street where a sweet red Mercedes waits.

Annabeth whistles. "That's one hip–cool, _cool_, car."

Rachel shrugs, sticking her hands into the pockets of her paint-splattered jeans. "It's okay. My dad bought it for me when I was fourteen and wasn't anywhere close to getting my driver's license, so…yeah."

"Oh." She has no idea how to respond. "That's…great?"

"Yeah, I guess." Rachel grins at her, nodding at the car. "C'mon. You can have front."

;

Everyone is waiting for them when they get there. Jason, Bianca, Nico, and a girl that holds Jason's hand. Annabeth recognizes her from the concert. She had been with Rachel in line.

"Pipes," Jason says, "that's our new friend Annabeth Chase. Annabeth, this is Piper."

Piper holds her hand out, smiling. "Nice to meet you, Annie."

"Likewise." She finally gets it down and grasps Piper's hand, shaking it. "And it's Annabeth."

"Right. Of course."

"Race you inside, Nicky!" Bianca hollers before dashing for the door.

"Hey!" Nico yells, running after her. "No fair, Bianca! You got a head start! AND DON'T CALL ME NICKY!"

The others chuckle at the twins, Annabeth laughing nervously along, and they follow them inside.

The mall looks like a dream. The whiles are a cream color, and the tiles are shiny, polished white. Shops are implanted into the walls. Escalators go up to the second floor, where there are even more shops.

People mingle about, some of them holding bags, some of them holding their children, some of them holding phones. Everyone going somewhere.

"Wow," Annabeth breaths.

Percy nudges her in the ribs, giving her a playful smile. "You act like you've never seen a mall before."

It's true; she's never actually taken the time to look at one. She's listened to shallow girls talk about them, and she's never had the urge to go.

"Well, I, uh…No. Not one this big, no," she half-lies.

"Well, come on then!" Rachel latches onto her arm, dragging her in the direction of the west wing. "We need to take you shopping!"

"Wh-what?" she asks just as Nico demands, "_What_?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Bianca agrees, catching onto whatever Rachel is planning. "She's a part of our group now; we need to buy her new clothes. And, no offence, Annabeth, get her a fashion sense."

"You didn't buy _me_ new clothes when _I_ joined the group," Jason says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Me neither," Percy pipes up.

Bianca rolls her eyes. "Family relation members excluded." She helps Rachel drag Annabeth toward a _Macey's_. Even Piper joins in.

"Let's go, boys!" she shouts over her shoulder, looking at the males whom just stand there. "Two of you are boyfriends, and the other one of you is a brother. You're supposed to hold our bags when we go shopping!"

Grumbling, the boys drag their feet behind them.

"Oh no, really," Annabeth tries, struggling against the three girls. She briefly considers phasing, but shopping isn't worth being revealed. "I'm fine. I don't need new clothes. Really. Thanks, though."

"Well, maybe, but if your wardrobe is all like _that_, then you need a little help," Bianca says, gesturing at her sweater, and she reminds Annabeth so much of Silena that it hurts. It hurts real badly.

The girls drag her into the _Macey's_, the boys muttering behind them. Annabeth looks over her shoulder at Percy, shrugging and giving him an _I tried _look.

She's shoved abruptly into a dressing room, piles of clothes pushed into her hands. It seems that Rachel and Bianca, led by Piper, are quite the speed-shopping force. Throwing in the towel, she strips out of her over clothes and puts on the ones given to her. She steps out, and is met with approval.

"Dang, Chase." Rachel whistles, a teasing smirk on her face. She shifts in Percy's lap to get a clearer look. "You clean up nicely."

Annabeth snorts, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Yeah, right." A shot of some emotion that she refuses to acknowledge courses through her as she looks at the pair.

Bianca waves her hand at her. "Go change into something else!"

The cycle repeats itself for a while until Annabeth gets through to the pile. Bianca nods towards the cash register, and Annabeth realizes something.

"I-I don't really have any money," she admits. Not being able to be seen and all, she's never paid for her clothing. She takes stuff that won't be missed off the rack at a thrift shop or two.

"That's fine." Rachel shrugs. She fishes through her bag, pulling out a credit card. "I'll pay for everything."

"Oh no, I can't let you do that–"

"I don't usually like to flaunt my wealth–or comment on other people's clothing choices–but, girl, _you_ desperately need a wardrobe change."

Annabeth looks down at her ugly sweater and homemade shorts, and decides not to argue. Rachel swipes the card, and then all the stuff is loaded into bags and picked up by the boys.

They browse the mall for a while, looking at different shops. Jason just has to stop at one of the carts and put on a fake mustache, making Piper giggle, which was probably his intention. Nico ropes Annabeth into entering a board game store, and he chats excitedly about some card game called Mythomagic.

Percy's stomach growls when they come back. Rachel giggles. "How about we go get something to eat, eh, tough guy?"

He laughs, scratching at the back neck with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, that'd be great." She chuckles along with him, standing on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his mouth.

"Disgusting PDA," Nico says in between fake coughs before Annabeth can. The couple turns to give him a dry look, and he clears his throat. "Sorry. I think I've got something caught in my throat." Bianca whaps him upside the head, rolling her eyes and muttering something about boys being immature.

"How about we go to my place?" Piper suggests. The others agree.

"Oh, crap," Bianca says, looking at the time on one of the screens. "Nico, we gotta go. I've got my softball game in, like, forty minutes."

"But M.K. always makes the best food!" Nico complains, but following her out anyway. The others give their farewells and head for Piper's house.

;

**1885**

"Luke!" Annabeth hollers, jumping up and down, waving her arms in the air. "Over here! I'm open!"

They–as in Annabeth, Luke, Thalia, Malcolm, Bobby, Matthew, Lou Ellen, Argus, and Charles–play ball in the backyard of Mr. Grace's large estate. The other girls, Silena, Katie, and Miranda, sit on the porch, gossiping and doing girly things.

All their parents are inside Mr. Grace's house. Being all the big movers and shakers of the town, they were invited to meet the new mayor, Mr. Ouranos King, and his son, Kronos. Kronos has yet to show his face, but Annabeth's okay with that. She doesn't need another big boy as competition in the game.

Luke throws her the ball, and she catches it, dashing off. She squeals with excitement when she sees Lou Ellen and Argus chasing after her. She runs straight into Charles and falls on her rear. She tries to scramble up, but he clutches her shoulders, picking her up and trapping her in place, with an excited laugh.

Then the door of Mr. King's house opens, and Charles turns to look at it. He immediately puts her down, probably scared that he could be shot for touching her like that. Being half-black, he most likely could.

She lands on her back. She props herself up on her elbows and cranes her neck to look at who decided to join them.

It's Kronos, Mr. King's son. She can tell by his pure gold eyes and perfectly tailored suit. He stands with his hands clasped behind and his chin high, like he's better than all of them.

"Ah, so this is what common-folk Americans do in their free time," he observes, his British accent thick. His eyes fly over Katie, Miranda, Selina, and, with a sharp look at the dirt on her face and the ball in her hands, Annabeth. He sizes up twelve-year-old Charles, then fifteen-year-old Argus and seventeen-year-old Luke. He sees them as his biggest threats, probably.

"Ladies really mustn't be playing with boys," Kronos says curtly, his attention back on Annabeth.

"Leave 'er alone." Argus moves in front of her protectively, clenching his fists, and then Kronos notices Thalia.

A charming smirk graces his pale face. "Milady," he says, approaching her. He goes to kiss her hand, but she backs away. "Now, now, don't act like that."

"Why don' you just _back off_?" Luke growls, shoving at Kronos's chest.

"Oh, I didn't know that a knight in shining armor was gracing our presence," he mocks, an eyebrow raised. "Aren't you a little young to have a beau, my dear?"

Luke opens his mouth to retort, but Thalia beats him to it. "Yes, I am," she says. "And that _includes_ you, Mr. King."

"Fair point," Kronos returns, holding up his hands. He turns, walking back to the house.

;

**1891**

"Ugh," Thalia groans, joining Annabeth and Argus in the supposed-to-be parlor. She places the vase full of flowers in her hand next to all the others. She collapses on the chair opposite to the love seat Annabeth and Argus currently rest on. "I've been asked five times–_today_–about a carriage ride on Sunday, and I've found three total bouquets on the doorstep."

Annabeth winces, tucking her feet underneath herself. Her shoes lay forgotten for the moment on the floor. "Kronos must be gettin' persistent, now that you're eighteen, I think."

"When will he jus' _give up_?" Thalia asks.

"Soon, maybe," she answers at the same time Argus says, "Never."

She cocks her head at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I…" He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "I _may_ have overheard Father and Mr. King talkin' 'bout a marriage between you two."

"_What_?!" Thalia demands. Annabeth gawks in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He ducks his head, sandy blond hair falling over his face. "I was gonna tell ya, but then it was your birthday, then Christmas, and then New Years. Didn't wanna ruin that for ya."

She sighs, anger fading. "It's fine. I jus'…didn't see it comin'." She turns her electric blue gaze to Annabeth. "Please don't tell Luke until Kronos actually proposes?"

"But, wouldn't it be easier to tell 'im now? Let 'im have time to prepare?"

"No." Thalia shakes her head. "If we tell him now…He'll take out his gun an' kill somebody."

"If we tell him later, he'll probably just go drink his sorrows away because he can't do a thing 'bout it," Argus agrees.

"Fine," Annabeth sighs, a feeling of guilt settling in her gut. She knows Luke will be crushed. She wants to give him time to set himself against what's coming, but…Thalia's the bride, apparently, and the bride should get her way. "I won't tell him."

"Thank you," she whispers.

"You probably jus' saved a life right then," Argus jests.

;

**2015**

Piper's house isn't far from the mall.

When they get there, Annabeth actually isn't sure if they just went to a different mall, because her house is just so _huge_.

"Damn," she mutters when they're all out of their separate cars. She, Percy, and Rachel had carpooled, while Jason and picked Piper up.

"I know, right?" Percy agrees at the same time Jason jokes, "Dang, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

It hurts, a little bit, because her mother's been dead for a long time now, and she hasn't been able to kiss her for longer, but she laughs anyway. The others giggle, too, though Percy keeps throwing her these worried glances.

They clamber up the marble steps. Some guy in a butler's uniform opens the large double doors for them, and the others all greet, "Hey, M.K.," as they pass through.

Annabeth is the last one in, and she awkwardly says, "Hi." M.K. levels her with a cold stare, and she quickly follows Percy inside.

Rachel and Jason have already made themselves at home, throwing themselves on the giant eight-person couch. Piper settles herself on his lap, Percy tosses an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, and Annabeth marvels at the building.

"Damn," she whispers again, and Piper laughs.

"Everyone seems to have that reaction," she says, chuckling. "You should have seen my friend Leo when he first came here. Jaw was practically on the floor." She does an impression of what Leo probably looked like, and they all burst out laughing.

Rachel laughs so hard that she falls over, burying her face in Percy's neck. Annabeth's laughter halts for a moment, her breath hitching as something twists in her chest, but before anyone can connect anything, she continues on chuckling.

After they finish, Piper gets up, heading over to the giant flat screen TV. She picks up a rectangular item with a smirk.

"Yes! Mario Kart!" Rachel shouts. Percy throws his arms in the air with a dramatic whoop. "You guys better be ready to get your asses kicked!"

"Language!" Piper mockingly gasps. Rachel just grins cheekily.

Upon their prompting, Annabeth sits at the end of the couch, closet to Percy, but still keeping a respectable amount of fabric between them. Piper tosses Wii-remotes in everyone's laps.

"Oh no," Jason says, holding his hands up. "I'm not touching this game with a ten-foot pole."

"Poor Jason." Percy reaches around Rachel to pinch his cousin's cheek. Jason jerks away. "He's still suffering from BHS; butt-hurt syndrome."

"Oooooooh!" Rachel says, covering her mouth. "Do you need a First-Aid kit? 'Cuz you just got _burned_!"

Jason gives them both cold dead glares. "You two are dead to me."

"They're right through. You haven't touched a controller ever since we smoked you on the track," Piper teases, settling herself next to him.

"Whatever. Just give Annabeth the remote."

The item is passed down the couch until Annabeth's fingers wrap around it. Piper turns on the TV and then the Wii U. She opens _Mario Kart 8_, and they all choose their characters and select their karts.

Annabeth is pretty bad for the first couple of races, staying in the back of the pack. She begins to get the controls, then she's flying across the track, passing Rachel and the CPUs, and then she's battling for first with Percy and Piper.

Piper runs over a banana peel (cussing loudly while doing so) and then it's down to Annabeth and Percy.

"On your left," Annabeth snickers, swerving next to him and knocking him off of Rainbow Road. The other three erupt in cheers.

"Go get him!" yells Rachel, who had pretty much given up any chance of getting higher than tenth place.

The finish line is in sight. She's so close she can _taste_ victory.

And then there's a sock-covered foot being shoved in her face, pushing her over, and her car comes to a complete stop as the remote falls on the carpet. Percy, laughing manically, passes over the finish line, gold lettering splayed across his corner of the screen.

"_No_!" she shrieks, and, without thinking, throws herself at him, tackling him to the floor. "You. Dirty. Little. _Cheat_!"

"Now that's just bad sportsman–Ow! Ow! Ow!" She cuts him off by jabbing her fingers into his side. She wiggles her fingertips, and he giggles like there's no tomorrow. Jason shrugs before falling off the couch and landing on his cousin's legs, causing him to cry out in pain. "No! No! St-stop! P-p-pl-please!"

"Hmm…How about…_No_!" She sets her other hand to tickling the juncture between his neck and collarbone, and he squeals.

"You-you-you-your fingers are s-so _cold_!" he complains, trying to escape her hands, but she and Jason keep him planted there. "Wh-why are they so–Gah!–c-cold?"

"Dog pile!" Piper exclaims, and then there's a weight on Annabeth's back that shoves her into Percy's chest. Brown hair tickles her face as she struggles to push Piper off. (Of course, she could always just phase through the girl, but…no.)

Jason lets out a pained "Oomph!" as Rachel jumps on him and Piper, digging her elbow into his spine. Annabeth's pushed even further into Percy to the point where she can't see and, if she were alive, there might be concern over the amount of oxygen going into her lungs, but she's fine. Happy, even.

"Get off my head, Rach!" groans Piper.

"Get off my back!" says Jason.

"Get off my _everything_!" exclaims Percy.

They're just a pile of giggling, squealing limbs. The three continue to complain, but Rachel just snickers, elbowing or kneeing Jason or Piper to get them to shut up.

Annabeth can't keep the goofy smile off her face.

It feels good to have friends again.

**AN: Uggggggggh. It could have been **_**way**_** better, am I right? *Sigh* Whatever. As long as I got **_**Mario Kart 8**_** (that's my **_**game**_**) it's **_**okay**_** in my eyes.**

**VERY IMPORTANT****: I'm going on vacation this weekend, so, even though I will do everything in my power to update faster than **_**this**_**, next chapter might take a little while, if I don't get it out by the end of the week.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If there are any errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews make my entire day!**


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: WARNING: There is domestic abuse in this chapter. If that triggers anything, then please. DO NOT READ.**

**Hello, there, guys! I had a great vacation. Thank you for asking. :D**

**To I really don't: Ha ha, thanks. I did, thank you. And, um. No. **_**I'm**_** not a part of any secret organization, but I don't know about the other guys…**

**To liaregie: Woah. I made an nOTP…bearable? THIS IS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION! WHOOOOOOOOOOOO *runs around room waving arms* *cracks open wine bottle (but not really)* *throws party with cat because I have no friends* WHOOOOOOOOOOO.**

**2015**

They eventually get off of Percy. It takes a little while, Rachel deciding to drag out the dogpile a little longer than necessary, but they all can't stop giggling. Percy's probably the worst.

After they roll off of him, they each (except for Jason) pick up a remote and get back into the game. Annabeth is prepared for when Percy tries to stick his foot in her face again, and she skillfully dodges, kicking his own remote out of his hands.

"Hey!" he complains. Piper and Rachel snicker, but only the latter turns to look. "That's not _fair_!"

She just shrugs. "All's fair in love and war, Percy," Annabeth says. "Plus; you're a little hypocrite."

"OOOOOOOOOOOH!" Rachel says. "BURN!"

"Hey. You're supposed to be on my side." Percy pouts, jutting out his bottom lip and making a baby seal face.

"Aw, poor baby," Rachel says without any sympathy, but drops a kiss on his lips anyway. Annabeth reframes from clearing her throat or growling, and turns back to the screen, passing Piper. She gives her a surprised look, and Annabeth doesn't reply.

Annabeth wins the round, and Jason points out that it's getting dark.

"We should probably go," Rachel agrees. Percy nods.

"Since Rachel's dropping off Percy," Jason says, turning to Annabeth, "do you need a ride?"

"Oh, there's no need," Percy interjects. "She lives in my apartment building."

He doesn't seem fazed, agreeing to let Annabeth go with the couple, but Piper's eyebrows shoot up with an unasked question. Probably, _Why is an orphan living in your building?_

With one last farewell to Jason and Piper, Annabeth, Percy, and Rachel jump into the red Mercedes. Percy snags front this time, and he and Rachel start a conversation, Annabeth giving her input whenever prompted.

"See you later!" Rachel waves at them from the front seat. Turning back to the road, she drives off, the breeze she created rippling Annabeth and Percy's clothes.

"Well?" Percy prompted, smiling at her and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did." Annabeth rubs her hand over the back of her neck. She's not able to meet his eyes for some reason. "Piper was really cool. I'm glad I got to meet her."

He cocks his head to the side. "You say that like it's the last time you'll see her, or something."

She freezes and her eyes widen slightly, but she quickly regains her composure. "No, I just…You never know if _other_ people don't like…_you_."

"Oh, come on. Don't talk like that." His grin turns encouraging. "I'm sure that she _loved_ you. You're great."

A goofy grin spreads across her face at the uncalled for compliment, and she immediately snaps her eyes down to the ground before it becomes too obvious. She shrugs, giving off an air a nonchalance. "If you say so."

His finger pokes at her side. "I _know_ so. Be more confident!"

"Okay! Okay! Fine!" She slaps his hand away, and they giggle. "I'll be more confident in my social skills from this point onward."

"That's the spirit!" he cheers.

She places her hands on her hips, adding a little strut to her step. "I mean, _of course_ she loved me! Hello! I'm _me_!" She flips her hair over her shoulder, giving him a look, and strikes a pose. "I'm too awesome _not_ to love."

He bursts out laughing again, and she straightens. The muscles of her cheeks prohibit her from stopping her smiling, and she doesn't want to, anyway.

"O-kay," he says, wiping a tear from his eye, "that may be taking the confidence thing a _little_ too far."

The pair chuckles, her hand splayed out across her collarbone, as they round the apartment building. They probably look like criminals when they climb up the fire escape, but Annabeth doesn't care. He's telling lame jokes that make her laugh for no reason, and she's content.

Then they arrive at her apartment, and her laughter dies down, thinking of the lonely night ahead of her. She looks down, cuffing her foot against the metal below them.

"I can hang out for a little while longer," Percy informs her, and she realizes a sigh had escaped her lips. She looks back up at him, and he shrugs, smiling softly in a way that looks so…_natural_ on him. (She briefly wonders if he ever smiles at _Rachel_ like this, then immediately scolds herself for thinking that.) "If you want."

"I, uh, yeah. Sure. Of course," comes stuttering out of her, as if Cupid had flipped on her switch. "If-if you want to."

"Of course I want to," he says earnestly, cocking his head slightly at her.

She nods and bends down. Digging her fingernails under the wood of her window, she lifts it up. She gives him an expectant look. "Ladies first," she prompts, and he scoffs, slugging her lightly in the shoulder, but ducking in all the same. She hops down next to him and shuts the window.

He tries to flip on the light switch, then turns to her raised eyebrow with a sheepish smile. "Whoops. Forgot about that." He flips it again, but this time to prove a point. "No electricity, huh?"

She debates to herself about teasing him for a moment. Then she shrugs. He's already taken time out of his schedule to hang out with her.

"No problem," she says. "It's, uh, not exactly visitor-ready, so it's _probably_ better if you can't see the whole thing."

He laughs. A soothing sound that rebounds off the walls.

And then Annabeth realizes she can only faintly see his outline in the darkness, and, his eyes being weaker than hers, he most likely can't see her at all.

"I have something for the light, though," she states, almost tripping over a piece of clothing in her haste. She fumbles through one of her cardboard boxes (what? She needs somewhere to put all the stuff she's collected over the years) until her fingertips brush two wax cylinders. Bringing them out, she goes to another box and grabs the box of matches that she knows are always on the top. She places the candles on the window sil she and Percy came in through.

Lighting her match, she touches it to both of the wicks, waiting long enough so that the orange flames ignite there, too. A soft glow illuminates a small part of the room, including her bed.

She closes her fingers around the match, dousing the fire, before she beckons Percy over. "Come to the light, Percy," she says, drawing out the _o_ in _come_ and the _i_ in _light_.

He snickers and makes his way over. He flops onto her mattress, and a cloud of dust puffs up around him. He coughs.

Wincing, she swipes the dust away from the air in front of her face. (Even though she doesn't _need_ to breath, she can.) "Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that. I didn't expect visitors, so I haven't cleaned in…God knows how long."

"It's fine." He tries covering up his coughs, but gives up when she carefully sits down next to him.

"No need to clean when you're mom isn't nagging you, eh?" she jests when his hacking dies down.

"Right," Percy says. He looks down, almost nervous, then locks eyes with her again. "If you don't mind me asking…and you can totally not answer, but…what was your family _like_?"

"My family?" She blinks, surprised. He nods. "Well…They were great. All of them. My brothers and I always played ball in the yard. We were notorious for our roughhousing abilities." She chuckles to herself. "My mom wanted me to be _more of a lady_," she says, using a posh accent for the last bit, "but with four brothers that was kind of hard to do, and…"

She turns to look at him, and gets embarrassed when she sees him watching her intently. "…_and_ you probably don't want to hear all that."

"No, I do," he tells her earnestly. "You guys seemed like a wonderful family."

"Well. Yeah." She shrugs. "We were. Until my oldest brother killed…a person, and it all kinda came crashing down."

"Oh," he breathes, like he isn't quite sure how to respond. "Did any of your other brothers…?" He doesn't have to finish the sentence for her to know what he's talking about.

"Probably." She rolls her shoulders. "The three, Malcolm, Matthew, and Bobby, joined the army." She says it like they had a choice. Well, Bobby decided to join the Navy out of his own free will, while Malcolm and Matthew had been drafted for World War I.

"And that's where they died?" Percy guesses.

"Yeah."

"What happened to your parents?"

_Died of old age_. "I don't really like to talk about them."

"Okay."

And she's immediately grateful. He doesn't push for answers. It's the best thing she could hope for.

His phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket and curses swiftly. "I'm sorry. I gotta go." He shows the text from his mom to her, asking where he is.

"It's okay," she says, watching him stand up. Though a hollow feeling settles in her chest at the thought of him leaving her alone. "Thanks for hanging out with me."

He gives her a smile. "Any time." He squeezes her shoulder as he goes to the window.

And then he's gone.

Annabeth flops on her back. Dust billows up around her. She rubs her cold hands over her face.

What just happened?

;

**1891**

Annabeth has just floated into the tavern with the intention of checking on Argus. She hasn't seen him since…well, since the night she died.

He has his fingers wrapped around the brim of a shot glass, looking like he needs one full of liquor for himself. His eyes are red and he rests his head on his hand, like he has to intention of moving any time soon.

Guilt gnaws at her stomach knowing that she reduced him to this state.

A man–a traveler, probably, since Annabeth has never seen him before–sits down at the bar. Argus barely looks up. The man places his hat on the counter.

"I came 'ere needin' ta pour my heart out ta somebody. Looks like y'all could use an open ear more," the man jokes. "What be chewin' at your heart strings, good fellow?"

Argus shoves himself up so that his elbows are braced on the counter. He pushes the shot glass between his fingers and sighs. "The love o' my life jus' left me."

The man hisses. "That's rough, fella," he says sympathetically. Then a grin plays on his lips. "But, hey, you don't need that scamp anymore! You're a free man!"

He fixes the man with a deadly glare. "Don't you _dare_ call Annabeth a scamp. _Ever_."

His eyes widen. "Then why–"

"She's dead," he mutters. "She left me, for anotha life."

"I'm sorry, fella. I…I didn' know."

"What kind of drink do you want?" Argus asks with a sigh instead of doing anything rash. The man answers, raising his fingers, and he goes to prepare his drink.

Someone else slips into the bar. The person seats himself at the bar carefully, and Annabeth can't see his face through his hood.

Argus hands the traveler man his drink before turning to the stranger. His eyes widen. "Lou Ellen Thanatos?" he asks. "What are you–" He looks around, then leans in close and drops his voice to a whisper, obviously worried about the men in the tavern taking advantage of the daughter of the sheriff. "What are you _doing_ here?"

She takes out a pad and pencil. She shrugs. "Jus' takin' some follow-up questions for mah father," she answers, shrugging her shoulders again, and Annabeth immediately knows she's lying. She leans forward, too, lowering her voice. "And, if you could, he'd like this kept on the _down low_."

"I…Yes. Fine." He straightens a bit when he sees the traveling man's eyes on them. He gives the man a glare, and he turns back to his beverage. "What questions do you have for me, Ms. Thanatos?"

"What time do you approximate that Annabet' Chase came inta the bar?" she asks, getting her pencil ready.

"About a half an hour 'fore dinner time."

"Did she talk ta anyone befor' she left with her brother, Luke Chase?"

He ponders this for a moment. "Sherman la Rue. The school teacher. Ya know, Clarisse la Rue's pa?"

She nods, scratching down the words. "Was Mr. Sherman armed?"

"No. Absolutely naut. I ain't allowing guns in my tavern."

"Last question: Your tavern is in ba'tween Luke Chase's shop an' the Chase household. Did you, perhaps, see Annabeth cross in front of your shop _after_ she took Luke home?"

"Well, I…" His eyes widen a tad, obviously having not thought of this question before. "No. I didn'."

Lou Ellen darts down the last sentence and shoves the pad in her pocket. "Thank you, Argus. Hopefully that'll help us catch Annabeth's killer." With a parting nod, she exits the inn.

"Oh, Lou," Annabeth mutters to herself. "What are you doing?"

;

After Lou Ellen's _questionable_ encounter with Argus, Annabeth heads home. She phases through the door and finds her mother.

Athena stirs some kind of stew halfheartedly. Her hands are dirty and her usually steely grey eyes are hollow. The same eyes stray to the family portrait over the fireplace.

The photo had to be taken when the twins were born, showing off the boys' existence to anyone who crossed the threshold of their house. The twins were obviously babies, Matthew being cradled by a twenty-eight-year-old Athena, Bobby being held by a thirty-seven-year-old Frederick. Two-year-old Annabeth, five-year-old Malcolm, and nine-year-old Luke stood in front of their parents.

They'd always got a family photo when a new Chase was born. The ones with baby Luke, then four-year-old Luke and baby Malcolm were hung up in the boys' room, while the one taken to celebrate Annabeth's birth was still on the wall of her bedroom.

Athena always said she wanted a new one. Probably before Malcolm goes off to college. Now that she's dead, Annabeth doesn't know what their plan is.

"Athena!" Frederick bursts into the house, bellowing his wife's name. "Athena!"

"In the kitchen, dear," Athena sighs, clearly not excited for whatever lecture is coming her way. He storms into the kitchen and angrily drops his boots on the counter. "Frederick!" she gasps, moving to push the dirty boots off. "Not on the counter!"

He catches her hand in a vice-like grip. "I don't care," he snarls. "I _asked_ you ta fix tha ruffle in my sole. And guess what? A week later, and it's. Still. Naut. _Fixed_."

"I'm sorry," she mutters, not sounding very sorry. "It's just hard ta keep up wit' all the housework, now that Annabeth is…" She chokes up.

His expression softens. Just a bit. "And I _know_ that," he says. "But, as woman of the house, you have certain responsibilities to attend to. Even if our daughter _is_ dead."

The words make Athena uncharacteristically bristle. "Well, maybe she'd still be around if _your_ son hadn't been out drinking!" she yells, jabbing her pointer finger at Frederick's chest.

His eyes darken, and Annabeth takes a couple frightened steps back. "Oh, so Luke's bar trip is _mah_ fault now?"

"_Yes_!" Athena doesn't back down. "_You're_ the one who raises tha boys, NOT ME! You should'a taught Luke that alcohol _isn't_ the answer!"

"Maybe ya should've gone ta git Luke, then!"

"A tavern is no place for a lady! And yet, you send Annabeth to get things from there when you have four perfectly healthy, perfectly strong sons to send instead! But what do you do? You contradict _my_ parenting of _my_ daughter!"

"She was mah daughter too!"

"But, _as woman of the house_, she was _mine_ to raise! _I_ never told the boys to put on dresses after _you_ told them that dresses are not for men."

They stare each other down, seething and breathing heavily.

And then Frederick brings his hand up and strikes her across the face. Athena slams into the counters.

"MA!" is torn from Annabeth's throat, and she rushes forward to help her mother, but her hands slip right through. She glares at her father.

"Get on dinner and fix my boots," he murmurs, voice deathly quiet, before stalking off.

Athena brings her hand up to her now-red cheek, staring at her husband's retreating form. Tears spring up in her eyes, and she blinks them away, stumbling up to grab the pot of stew again.

;

**2015**

Annabeth was having the best time of her afterlife for these past two weeks.

She'd met Leo Valdez, Jason and Piper's best friend, and then Hazel's boyfriend Frank Zhang at mini-golf with the group. The two boys were rising on her list of favorite friends quickly.

Rachel tried to get Annabeth to go out shopping with her and the girls, but she had to decline. She literary couldn't go _anywhere_ without Percy.

Everyone was great. Bianca, Piper, Jason, Nico, Hazel, Rachel…Everyone.

Not one of them could top Percy, though. He was the best. He invited to her breakfast every morning, and hung out with her most nights. He always greeted her with a hug when he came into her apartment, and never left her without another embrace.

This day, after hanging out at the arcade with the entire gang, they (_they_ as in Annabeth, Percy, Jason, Rachel, Piper, Hazel, and Bianca. The others had someplace to go) went to Jason's house.

"Welcome to _mi casa_," Jason says, gesturing to the building behind him.

It's huge, though a little run-down. The walls are made out of red brick, chipped here and there, and the doors look like real mahogany wood. All the windows look replaced. A creaky old porch swing sways in the wind. Off to the side is an evidently new shed. The setting sun behind it gives off a mystical vibe.

"Damn," mutters Annabeth, much like when she first saw Piper's house. Percy chuckles next to her, his fingers intertwined with Rachel's.

When they get inside, Percy, Bianca, and Piper make themselves right at home. Percy raids the fridge, Piper throws herself on the couch, and Bianca busts out the board game _Sorry!_

Percy practically runs out to play, taking the fourth spot in the game away from Piper. She glares at him, and he shrugs innocently. He, Bianca, Hazel, and Rachel get right down to playing, Piper cheering them on and spilling Percy's gaming secrets.

Annabeth wanders a little bit–careful not to go far, though. Even though she and Jason _are_ friends, he probably wouldn't appreciate her snooping around his house.

She ends up finding the fireplace; a red brick, much like the ones outside, structure, blackened by soot. Above it is a family photo of Jason and his parents.

On the fireplace are splayed dozens of pictures, from all different times and of different people. The same shade of black appearing on many of the people's hair, the same jaw line, the same eye shape. Some bearing a noticeable resemblance to either Percy, Tyson, Bianca, Nico, Jason, or Hazel. She scans over all.

Her breath hitches when she finds a certain photograph. It's of Thalia and Kronos King, four out of six of their eventual children standing in front of them. There's no doubt about it. No mistaking them.

Her fingers tenderly wrap around the photograph before she knows what they're doing. She stares at it. Why would there be a picture of Thalia and Kronos?

"My dad likes to do genealogy of our ancestors," a voice cuts into her thoughts. Annabeth jumps, nearly dropping the picture. She fumbles to catch it before turning to find Jason.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

He cuts her off. "It's fine," he says. "Most people are curious on why we have pictures of random people over our fireplace." He chuckles, and then gestures to the photos. "They're all me and Percy's and Hazel's and Nico's and Bianca's and Tyson's ancestors."

"Ah." She looks down, her fingers curling around the frame of the picture. She musters up the courage to ask, "Who are these?" She shows him the photo in her hands, not knowing if she wants the answer or not.

Jason stares at it for a moment, pondering. "Those are the Kings, I think," he says. "Yeah. Yeah, they are. Kronos and Thalia." He pronounces it TALL-ee-a. She fights the urge to correct him"I think Kronos died when they were young, and Thalia changed her and all her kids' last name back to Grace. She's my great-something-grandma. Why?"

"Oh." She turns the picture over in her hands. All the cousins but Jason, Hazel, and Tyson have Thalia's raven black hair, and Jason has her eyes. Hazel's golden irises aren't a shade off from Kronos's. How could she have not noticed before? "She just looks like someone I used to know."

He offers an indifferent shrug. Probably already used to the rule of _Annabeth's past stays mysterious_, no matter how many questions are asked.

"Jason!" Percy shouts, and the two turn to look at him. For a split second, his face shows an expression of jealousy at the two of them together.

Then it's gone, and Annabeth must have imagined it.

"What?" Jason shouts back.

"Why are we shouting?" Piper yells. Rachel snickers and hits her arm lightly.

"Because I need food, and Jason's out of food!" Percy replies, again in a shout.

"_Dude_!" Jason complains, going over to the fridge. He opens it. The thing is almost empty, only items like Brussel sprouts and ketchup still in it. He punches Percy in the arm. "I just went grocery shopping _two days ago_!"

Bianca gags. "How can boys hold so much _junk_?"

"The world may never know," Rachel says sympathetically, shaking her head.

"I need more _food_," Percy whines.

"Then get it yourself," Jason shoots back. "Because I sure as _hell_ am not getting it just for your _consumption_."

"Okay," he says, ignoring the second part of Jason's comment. He whips out his phone, typing on the device. "I found this awesome pizza place not too far from here. There isn't good parking and they don't cater, but it's the best pie on this side of the Mississippi. What does everyone want?"

"Cheese," says Piper.

"Pepperoni," says Bianca.

"Sausage," says Rachel.

"What Piper wants," says Jason.

"Mushroom, banana peppers, and bacon," says Hazel.

"Okay. Annabeth?"

Her eyes snap up to his from where she had been staring at Hazel questionably. "Hmm?"

"What pizza topping do you want?" he asks.

"Oh, um…" _It doesn't matter, because my taste buds don't work. Because I'm dead. _"I'll try out Hazel's thing."

"So, medium cheese, medium half-pepperoni, half-sausage, and then another medium with mushrooms, banana peppers, and bacon? Sound good to everybody?" Percy looks at all of them, and they nod back. He dials a number and brings his phone up to his ear, telling the person on the other end their order.

"Okay," he says, putting his phone down. "It'll be ready in about twenty minutes. Who wants to go with me?"

Annabeth waits for a moment. "I guess I'll go," Bianca volunteers. Hazel nods in agreement.

"I can drive," Rachel suggests. "I'll stay in the car. Keep it running in case we can't find parking and stop on the side of the street."

"Sounds fun. I'll go, too," Annabeth says, like she actually put thought into her decision. Wherever Percy goes, she has to go, too.

;

Finding parking is a nightmare.

The pizza place is on one of the more busy shopping squares of the town. The contractors that built it didn't do a good job of placing parking. Rachel has to drop them off and drive around the square a couple times until they're ready.

They go in, grab their pizzas, and try to find Rachel as quick as they can. Annabeth and Bianca balance two pizzas each while Percy and Hazel march ahead.

A jerk in a hurry rushes past them, slamming his elbow into the side of Bianca's head as he goes. She topples into a tight alleyway in between a clothing store and a café, pizza raining on her face and shirt. The man turns just enough that Annabeth catches sight of red eyes before he disappears down a corner.

"Wait up!" Annabeth shouts to Percy and Hazel. She doesn't bother to gauge their reaction before offering Bianca her hand.

"Thanks," she mutters, reaching for her limb.

Something silver catches in the corner of Annabeth's eye–an arrow–and it flies through the air.

Straight into Bianca's chest.

**AN: WHOOPSIES. MY HAND SLIPPED. (Except not really. BWA HA HA HA HA HA!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other product I might have mentioned.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If there are any errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews make my day!**


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: Life + a case of writers block = horrible updating times. Sorry about that.**

**To HydraCourt****: Ruining feels is one of my favorite pass times. :D**

**To gummy204: I know, right? All that pizza, wasted…So sad.**

**To seekerquaffle621: Ah, well, thanks. There's a lot of stories better than mine. Really. You've just gotta go look.**

**Warning: Cursing.**

**2015**

"BIANCA! BIANCA!"

Police had quickly swarmed the scene at some pedestrian's shout of, "Oh my god someone _died_!" The closest mall cops had pushed everyone out of the way.

"BIANCA! _BIANCA_!"

Inconsiderate jerks crowded around the yellow police tape, standing on their tiptoes to get a better angle for their _Twitter_ posts. They whispered and murmured eagerly, waiting to see the outcome of this gruesome ordeal.

"_BIANCA! BI-ANCA!_"

Annabeth drowns out everything except for one person's shouts.

"NO! NO!_ DON'T TAKE HER! _SHE'S_ FINE!"_

She plants her feet a little harder into the pavement to keep Percy from tackling the paramedics loading a stretcher, draped with a blue blanket, into an ambulance. Her arms are wrapped around his torso. She forces her limbs to become more solid, giving him no chance to escape.

"_I SAID SHE'S FINE_!"

She knows that Rachel is cradling a hysterically sobbing Hazel somewhere off to their right, but all she can focus on right now is Percy.

A police officer comes up, nodding at Annabeth, beckoning her over. She doesn't know what he wants from her–she's already answered all the questions–but she hands Percy over to Rachel and approaches the cop.

"Are you immediate family of" –he pauses to glance down at the notebook in his hand– "Ms. di Angelo?"

Instead of fulfilling the urge to wrap her hands around Mr. _I'm-too-cool-to-learn-the-name-of-the-victim_'s neck, Annabeth shakes her head. "No, I'm–"

"LEAVE HER ALONE! _Please_."

She winces at Percy's broken voice, before continuing with her sentence. "I'm just a friend. Hazel Levesque–the one with the brown hair–is her half-sister, and, um, Percy Jackson is her cousin. On their father's side."

"And the redhead?"

"She's…Rachel's Percy's girlfriend. Bianca also has–had?–_has_ a twin brother named Nico, and I can't remember her parent's names. Pluto, I think is their dad's name? Pluto di Angelo?"

The officer nods and tucks the pad in his pocket. "Thank you for answering questions. It would have been better if I could have asked the sister, but…you're the only one that isn't in hysterics." He cocks his head to the side. "Why is that?"

Annabeth sticks her hands in her pockets and scuffs the heel of her shoe against the dirty sidewalk. She stops her movement when she spots a piece of gum several centimeters away.

"I'm what you'd call 'broad-shouldered,'" she explains. "I've seen a lot worse than this."

"Tell me," the officer says, "what's worse than watching your friend die?"

She shrugs and looks him in the eye, letting him know that she's not afraid of what she's about to tell him. "Watching your brother kill."

;

The ambulance has long since drove off. Percy, Hazel, and Rachel group together in some kind of sobbing blob. Annabeth and the officer–Officer Reynolds–approach them.

"They–Um–They're taking the body to the precinct," Officer Reynolds says, obviously shaken up by what Annabeth had told him. She almost smirks. "The victim's parents are on their w-way. H-how about I give y-y-you kids a ride?"

Rachel sniffs, lifting her head to look at him. "Would you?" she whispers.

He smiles. "Of course. This way." His partner, Officer Wilden, is already seated in the driver's seat, and Reynolds climbs into the passenger, leaving the back three plastic seats to the four teenagers.

Annabeth ends up in the middle with Hazel on her lap. Percy and Rachel are still sobbing, while Hazel stares blankly ahead, fisting her hands tightly, grabbing at the material of her jeans. The officers chat back and forth, Annabeth catching words like "poor" and "kids" and "body," but the glass separating them keeps her from overhearing anything else.

Officer Wilden drives over an unexpected pothole, and Annabeth's forearm ends up connection with Hazel's face from the harsh jostle.

"Sorry," she mutters, taking her hand underneath her knee.

She doesn't get a response.

Percy and Rachel soon run out of tears, and the ride to the precinct is silent. Percy's voice cuts through the air like a sharp knife. "Did you…Did you see who shot her, Annabeth?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, recounting the ordeal. The man pushing Bianca into the alleyway. The silver arrow with the heart-shaped arrowhead. Herself, looking around wildly for the culprit and seeing two red dots staring at her through the darkness, leaving vaporous comet's tails as he receded from the edge of the building.

"No," she says, shaking her head to clear the images. _Of course_ she knows _who_ shot Bianca, but she hadn't necessarily _seen_ him. The red eyes could have easily been mistaken as plane lights for anyone else, and she hadn't caught sight of any body mass. So, no, it isn't _entirely_ a lie.

No one else speaks until Officer Reynolds does, but he only tells them to go up the steps to the precinct when he opens the door. Officer Wilden offers Annabeth his hand, probably expecting her to have jelly legs after such a long ride with Hazel on her lap, but she stands up just fine and brushes past him.

They're seated in uncomfortable plastic chairs "_until their parents show up_", Percy strategically placed in between the girls and some crackhead handcuffed to his seat three chairs down. Personally, Annabeth thinks that it _she_ would have been a better barrier, but. You know, boys are better fighters and all, says pretty much every one ever. Whatever.

Jason is the first one to arrive, along with an older man (probably his dad) that looks so much like Thalia, Annabeth has to do a double take. Jason tries to rush over to them when he spots them, but they're _witnesses_ or something, and a few officers have to stop them.

Sally is allowed when she comes, though, since she _is_ Percy's mom. Jason has to keep Tyson from following. She cups her son's face, fretting over him, then glances over Hazel, then Rachel, and then finally Annabeth.

"Are you four okay?" she asks worriedly.

"Peachy," Annabeth grunts. Percy gives her a bitter glare, and she slumps further into her seat. "Sorry."

Sally smiles at her. "It's fine, dear." She turns to Hazel after all has been forgiven, squeezing her niece's hand. "You father and brother and stepmother will be here in a couple minutes. You can hold out until then, yeah?"

"Are my…" Rachel starts, then licks her lips. "Are my parents coming?"

"No. Sorry, dear," Sally says with a sympathetic look. "Your father just called me from Chicago and told me to make sure that you're alright, though."

"Right," she says. "Don't you mean make sure that I hadn't committed murder?"

"WHERE IS MY SISTER?!" comes a voice that cuts off whatever Sally's response was before it started. "WHERE?! TELL ME!"

Annabeth cranes her neck to see Nico di Angelo, storming into the building to ask about his sister. Whether it be Bianca or Hazel, Annabeth doesn't know.

He starts to dissolve into a tantrum when no one answers him. "WHERE? _WHERE_?!" A cop rushes forward to contain the little ball of Italian rage.

Mr. di Angelo comes forward and sets his hand on Hazel's shoulder, murmuring words into her ear with a comforting voice. He claps her shoulder, tells her to be strong, and leaves with Sally to go talk with Jason's dad, Mr. Grace, and Mrs. di Angelo.

A detective moves to stand in front of Annabeth, Percy, Rachel, and Hazel. "You four." He jabs his finger at each of them individually. "Time to come in for questioning."

He gives a wicked grin that he's probably spent years perfecting to scare the bubs he's caught. "Better make sure your story is straight, or you're going to be in a _lot_ of trouble."

;

**1884**

Annabeth always has to carry the dinner pail. Luke and Malcolm say it's because she's the youngest, but she thinks it's because they like watching her struggle. Boys like to do this kind of stuff, like pulling on girls' braids and stuffing spiders down their dresses.

Of course, she partakes in the fun, but it's _not_ cool when they prod and poke at her.

Luke's a big boy; he's sixteen. _He_ should be carrying the dinner pail, not her. She glares at her older brother, and he just grins impishly back.

Malcolm catches the glare and cheekily tells her that she needs to trudge through it, because it's _tradition_. Luke laughs and ruffles his curly brown hair.

Then, Christopher Sherman (Mr. Sherman's younger cousin, and Frederick and Athena's neighbor) comes rushing down the street, nearly ramming into Luke.

Christopher grasps his shoulders. "Ya'll need to get in your house right _now_," he stresses. "Your ma–" He cuts himself off.

Luke's face becomes panicked, and Annabeth's heart thuds in her chest. "Ma what? Ma _what_?!" he asks again when Christopher doesn't answer.

"Ya'll might wanna go in an' find out for yourselves," Christopher Sherman replies, and Luke and Malcolm are down the street quicker than two shakes of a lamb's tail.

"Wait!" Annabeth cries, nearly falling over when she tries to hike the dinner pail onto her shoulder. Christopher opens his mouth, probably to suggest his assistance, but Annabeth makes it work. She wobbles toward her house and down the path leading to her porch, swinging open the door.

"Ma! Pa!" she yells into the empty house. "Where–"

"They're inside their bedroom, dear."

Her head whips around to find Mrs. Hecate–the sheriff's wife–scrubbing her hands in the basin next to the stove. She raises an eyebrow at the woman. "With all due respect, Missus, what are you doin' here?"

Mrs. Hecate laughs. "You might want to go in your parent's bedroom and find out, Annabeth."

With one last suspicious glance at the woman, she plops down the pail and scrambles to her parent's bedroom. Frederick, Luke, and Malcolm kneel at the edges of the bed, while Bobby and Matthew join Athena on top of the mattress. Athena herself is looking down watery at a blanket bundled in her arms, though Annabeth doesn't know why a pile of laundry would–Wait a second.

"Annabeth." Athena glances up and smiles kindly at the child in question. "Come and meet your new baby sister."

A strangled gasp escapes her throat, and she's up there in a moment. Athena tugs the blankets slightly for Annabeth to get a better look.

The baby is a little on the small side (for a Chase, at least. She remembers Matthew and Bobby being big babies, and also how Athena often joked that Annabeth had been so large, she nearly ripped the woman in half while being birthed) with fine brown hairs littering her head.

"She's so…" Annabeth reaches her pinky finger forward, letting the baby wrap her tiny chubby hand around it. "…perfect, Ma. She's perfect." She looks up at her mother, then glances at her father. "What are we namin' her?"

Frederick reaches over and takes Athena's hand. "Well," he says, "we were thinkin' of namin' her Sophia."

"Sophia." Annabeth tests out the name. She grins when it rolls off her tongue nicely. "Sounds wonderful." The boys nod in agreement.

Bobby shoves Annabeth out of the way, bouncing on his knees. "Can I hold 'er? Can I? Can I?"

Athena laughs and brushes some of his shaggy brown hair out of his face. "I'm sorry, Bobby, but you and Matthew are too little."

"But-but-but." Matthew comes forward, too. "But Annabet's the same size as us!"

The sentence makes Annabeth, Luke, and Malcolm raise an eyebrow at their brother. Annabeth clearly towers over the twins by at least four inches.

"Annabeth is different," Athena informs the twins. "She's a girl, and she won't play too rough with Sophia." Bobby and Matthew pout, and Annabeth sends a smug smile, remembering all those times they wouldn't let her play with them because she's a _girl_.

"Come on, children." Frederick ushers all the kids out of the room. "Let your mother and sister get some rest. Luke, you're in charge. Help Annabeth make dinner." And he disappears behind the door.

Everyone follows Luke into the main room. Mrs. Hecate is gone.

Annabeth can't keep the smile off her face as she drags around her stool, grabs potatoes, and handles raw meat. "A sister," she whispers to herself more than Luke–who is struggling with the simple task of peeling a potato. "I have a baby sister."

;

Annabeth brags to everyone at school the next day about Sophia. The boys brush it off, while the girls ask questions like, how cute is she, when was she born, etc. etc.

"I wish _I_ had a baby sister," sighs Miranda, the youngest Gardner child.

"Oh, yes!" Silena agrees, clasping her hands together. "Wouldn't it be so grand? I could dress her up and play with her hair and teach her how to be a _lady_!"

"What would you name her?" Annabeth questions.

Silena presses a finger to her lips, thinking. "Somethin' interesting, not like your average Jane or Laura… Drew? Wait, no, Lacy. No no no! Piper!" She sighs dramatically. "I just can't decide! I have too many grand ideas!"

Giggling behind her hand, Katie suggests, "Ya could just have _three_ sisters. Or daughters."

Her blue eyes light up. "Yes! Three daughters! I might have a boy or two, if they're well behaved…"

Thalia shoves her shoulder lightly. "I don' think that's how it works, Silena," she informs her. "Once you have 'em, you can't give 'em back, no matter how un-behaved they are."

They five girls sit and chat about future husbands and children. Argus comes over to them when Annabeth is explaining her want of a fairer-haired husband, and he asks her if she wants to play with him and the boys.

She almost agrees, like any other time, but she thinks back to Silena's one line and turns him down. The other girls gape at her when he leaves.

"What?" she asks them, furrowing her eyebrows.

"_You_ never turn down an offer to play wit' the boys," Miranda says.

Annabeth shrugs. "Silena's right. I gotta pack up my tomboy act an' start showin' Sophia how to be a proper lady."

;

After school, Annabeth rushes home to see Sophia, not caring as the dinner pail slams against the back of her shins.

Sophia lays awake in the cradle Annabeth had helped Luke and Malcolm get out of the attic. It was way too big for Sophia's tiny body–Frederick had just made one huge cradle for the twins, since they didn't have enough room for two, and they had thrown out the one that Luke, Malcolm, and Annabeth had slept in–but she'd grow into it.

"Hi, Sophia," Annabeth coos, letting her sister's tiny hand wrap around her pinky finger.

Annabeth runs home to see her sister every day for three months. Sometimes she's being held by Athena or Frederick; sometimes she's bawling her eyes out; sometimes she's getting changed. Most times, though, Sophia's awake, on the brink of a nap, but she never falls asleep until she's seen Annabeth.

That's why it's troubling when Annabeth approaches the cradle one day and Sophia has her eyes closed.

She's grinning when she opens the door, because Mr. Sherman had announced they are going to have a Spelling Bee on Saturday. They haven't had one for a long time, and she's the best speller in the class, so she's excited.

She rushes over to Sophia's cradle to gush all about it, but the baby's eyes are shut. Her brow furrows. Sophia's never asleep when she comes home.

"Sophia," she singsongs quietly, but gets no response. Not a stretch or a twitch or a coo: nothing. Annabeth offers Sophia her pinky finger, and she doesn't even blindly wrap her fingers around it, like she's done so many times before in her sleep.

Freaking out a little bit now, Annabeth lets her hand flutter over to Sophia's face, expecting to feel warm breath. Instead, nothing comes out of Sophia's mouth. Annabeth's eyes widen and her heart skips some beats when she realizes _she's not breathing._

_Sophia_ is not _breathing_.

"_Mother_!" is torn from her throat, and she scrambles away. She remembers seeing Frederick and Athena behind the house, chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Gardner: their neighbors. She scampers for the backdoor. "_Ma_! _Pa_!"

When she bursts out into the backyard, everyone turns to face her with startled expressions. She vaguely sees that Katie, Miranda, and their four other siblings got home sometime while she was checking on Sophia.

Frederick chuckles and scoops up is daughter when Annabeth comes running at them. "What's wrong, Annie?" he asks, ruffling her hair. "Ya look like ya've seen a ghost."

"Soph–" She tightens her fingers around his shirt, trying to calm her breath long enough to force that words out. "_Sophia's not breathing_!"

"What?" her mother demands, and she doesn't have enough time to answer, because Frederick is whisking them inside. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner tells their kids to _wait here_, and then they're on the Chases' heels.

Her father places her back on the ground, on the wood floor a few yards away from the cradle. He slowly steps forward, like Sophia is just asleep and he's scared that he might wake her.

Annabeth hides behind Athena's skirts as Frederick reaches a hand into the cradle. The world stills for a couple moments, no one daring to breathe.

He takes his hand out. Sucking in a deep, watery gasp, he announces grimly, "She's dead."

Later in life (or, well, _afterlife_), Annabeth wonders which daughter was harder for the Chases' to bury: Annabeth, or Sophia?

;

**2015**

Annabeth panics for a moment, because she isn't sure if the cops will separate her and Percy for questioning. They'd probably think she ran away when she fades, and that she's Bianca's killer, and then they'll send out an arrest warrant, and Percy will hate her forever.

Thankfully, though, the detective leads the four of them into a single room. It's exactly the way Annabeth imagined a 21st century questioning room to be; gray walls, gray floor, stainless steel table in the middle, one-way glass on the far wall.

The detective clicks the door shut behind them. Another detective–this one female, with blond hair pulled back into a tight bun–sits at the table, her back turned towards the one-way glass. She gestures to the four seats across from her. "Have a seat. We'll just be asking a few questions."

Hazel is the first one to sit. Not because she's complying; probably because she looks like she desperately needs to sit down, or else her legs will collapse out from under her. The other three follow suit.

"So…" the female detective–who Annabeth nicknames Jane, since they don't wear nametags–starts, licking her thumb to open the newly-printed file on the murder of Bianca di Angelo. "Which one of you is Annabeth Chase?"

Rachel juts her thumb in Annabeth's vague direction, Percy being seated between them. "Her."

"You, Annabeth, saw the collision of the arrow and Ms. di Angelo, correct?" Jane asks.

Annabeth nods. "Yes."

"And Ms. di Angelo had been pushed into the alleyway? Maybe by the murderer's accomplice?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Ms. di Angelo was targeted _specifically_, or could this have happened to you, the redhead, or the black, or even the boy?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Did you see _who_ shot the arrow?"

"No."

And so on and so forth.

Percy, Rachel, and Hazel get asked some questions, too, but mainly Annabeth. Jane keeps calling them by their nicknames (redhead or heiress, boy, black, and blondie) instead of their real names. Probably to get under their skin.

It seems to work a couple times, too. Rachel flinches every time Jane says heiress, and everyone bristles with each racist comment toward Hazel. Annabeth's worried for a second that Percy might flip the table and launch himself at Jane during another xenophobic name-calling, but then Jane says that's all the questions they have for them today.

The male detective has them follow him back out to where everybody is waiting.

Jason tackles Hazel with a bear hug. She glances over at Nico, who is slumped in a chair and staring blankly into space, before burying herself in her cousin's shoulder. Sally approaches Rachel and Percy, checking them for injuries again before hugging the life out of the couple.

Annabeth stuffs her hands in her pockets and scuffs the heel of her shoe against the tile. Would her parents have come if they had lived in this time? Would Luke, Malcolm, Matthew, and Bobby come, too? Her friends?

Something small tugs at her pant leg, and she glances down. Tyson stares at her with earnest brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Yeah."

He shakes his head. "You don't look okay." His tiny arms circle her leg–barely wrapping fully around it–and he presses his cheek against her thigh, announcing, "You look like you could use a hug."

A little warm feeling in her chest causes her to give a small smile. She ruffles his hair before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Thanks, big guy."

"Do you think Bianca will need a hug when she comes out?" Tyson mumbles into her jeans. "Everyone's talking about her, and they sound kinda sad, so she'll probably be sad if everyone's talking sad _about_ her, right?"

That warmth in her chest is extinguished; squeezed out. Her throat bobbles as she swallows, because this kid just lost his father and now he lost his cousin and he doesn't understand the latter yet and she wishes now, more than ever, that she could cry.

She crouches down to meet him at eyelevel, forcing his arms away from her and cupping his hands in her much bigger ones. She opens her mouth, prepared to tell him that he _can't_ give Bianca a hug, but then he's staring at her with such innocent eyes that she clamps her mouth shut.

"Do you know who could really use a hug _right_ now?" she says instead. He shakes his head. "Your brother Percy."

Tyson glances over his shoulder, where Percy is still locked in a tight embrace with Sally and Rachel, then back at her. "But…Percy's already _being_ hugged. If I go hug him, then there will be no one to hug you."

"I'll be fine," Annabeth assures him, smoothing out the collar of his shirt. Sally probably had to hastily throw it on him. It's, like, midnight already.

His perks up slightly. "Are you're parents coming? Will _they_ hug you?"

She shakes his head. "No, Tyson. They won't be coming."

"Why not?"

"Because…" She sighs, almost pinching the bridge of her nose, but Tyson seems like a sensitive kid, and she doesn't want him to think she's annoyed with him. "Just go hug you're brother, okay? For me."

Tyson hesitates for a moment, then nods and rushes off to go cuddle Percy's leg.

Annabeth stands, glancing over to Nico. He's still unresponsive. Then, her eyes flutter over to Hazel. Jason rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, while Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo offer comforting words and advice.

She already knows Percy, Sally, Tyson, and Rachel are wrapped up with each other, and she slips out of the precinct, undetected.

;

She sits on the edge of a building, right leg dangling over, the other one propped up so she can sling her elbow over her knee. Below, ambulances swarm an intersection.

A sharp, cold snap of wind tugs at her clothes and hair. She can see the red glow out of the corner of her eye, so she doesn't jump when a deep voice sounds next to her ear, "Death is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

"You bastard," she mutters, giving him the answer to his question.

He doesn't seem phased by her name-calling, though. "Love and Death go hand in hand. A death without someone that loves the deceased has no impact, and therefore, doesn't matter," he lectures. "_You_ out of all people should know, Annabeth."

She whirls around to face him. She obviously surprises him with how quick she moves, because she manages to get her hands twisted in his white tailored suit and slam him against the wall behind them before he disappears.

"My, my." She turns around as he materializes again, a couple yards away, brushing off his clothes. He makes a _tsk_ noise at the back of his throat. "Someone's in _quite_ the mood tonight."

Annabeth glowers at him. "Are you sure you're not the one having the fit, or do you just shoot people when you feel like it?"

"Technically, I didn't kill Bianca di Angelo. I am Love, not Death. It's against the rules for me to directly take a life."

"Then who did, huh, Cupid?" she bites out. "Some broken fool that just got kicked out of their fiancée's apartment?"

He shrugs. "Death owed me a favor, and I called it in."

"What was even the _point_ of it?" she demands, waving her arms around. "Was it just to prove you're a sick bastard that needs to go back to the insane asylum you crawled out from?!"

He covers his heart dramatically, like she wounded him. "I'm hurt, Annabeth. Really," he says with mock innocence. "Why, I'm just trying to help you, and you make it seem like _I'm_ the bad guy."

"HELP ME?!" Annabeth screeches, finally losing it. "HOW CAN YOU CALL KILLING BIANCA _HELPING ME_?!"

"I should probably rephrase my earlier sentence, eh?" Cupid suggests with a slimy eyebrow raise. "For those with Love, Death breeds grief for them. In grief, mortals are more susceptible to falling _in_ love, like they're trying to replace the love they lost. It's pathetic, really."

She clenches her fists, digging her nails into her palms so tight they break skin. No blood comes out, though. "So by killing Bianca, you're putting Percy into grief to up the chance that he'll fall in love. With _me_."

He gives an award winning smile. "I knew you'd catch on! You were always so _smart_."

She takes a step back, shaking her head. Leveling her gaze to his, she repeats, "You _bastard_. You absolute sick son of a bitch."

Cupid clambers onto the edge of the building. Annabeth follows him with her gaze, wondering how satisfying it would be if she pushed him off.

He takes another step, his white dress shoe connecting with nothing, but seemingly something, before he looks over his shoulder at her. His eyes are glowing brighter, it seems, after Bianca's death.

"Just so you know," he says, "Death owes me a couple more favors, and I intend to collect every two weeks until Percy falls in love with you. Just to give him–and you–that extra boost."

He takes another step, and his form is whisked away by the air, leaving Annabeth alone on the rooftop, feeling hollower than she ever has before.

**AN: I wonder how many people are going to review "Ohmigods poor Niiiiico! How could you do that to hiiiiim?" I already made bets with myself.**

**You already took the time to read through seven long chapters, so why not go read more of my stuff? **_**Hashtag shameless promotion!**_

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any errors, please inform me so I can correct them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or anything else I might have mentioned. I am also not responsible for anything that has/will happen to your feels.**

**Constructive criticisms welcome, and reviews makes my day!**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: *Gasp* What is this? Another chapter in a reasonable amount of time? Absurd!**

**I just wanna thank you all for all the support for this story! Seriously. You guys are **_**awesome**_**.**

**Though, no one got my **_**Pretty Little Liars**_** reference in the last chapter. Pretty disappointed in you all. (Not really.)**

**To ****I really don't****: Hahahah. No.**

**To liaregie: Piper **_**could**_** be related to Silena. The only relations to people from Annabeth's past that I'm going to touch up on are Percy's, Tyson's, and all their cousins' being descendants of Thalia and Kronos, probably. But, you know, let your imagination run wild! **

**To seekerquaffle621: I'm not sure that stabbing your computer would be the best course of action, ha ha. Then you won't get to read what happens next!**

**To Artsybookworm: Thank **_**you**_** for reviewing!**

**WARNING: This is domestic abuse in this chapter. If that triggers something, then please, ****DO NOT READ THIS. ****I'd rather **_**you**_** be safe than **_**me**_** have a couple more views on my fanfiction.**

**2015**

Annabeth walks home after her encounter with Cupid.

Sure, she could fly to her apartment, but she needs a time longer to collect her thoughts. She stares at her feet, hands in her pockets, not blinking.

If they could see her, a few people might think the latter as _weird_, but no one pays attention to her. Even when she walks right through them.

She climbs up the fire escape around three or four in the morning. She just wants to collapse and fall asleep, not stay awake all night (well, morning) with ponderings of _Bianca's death is my fault_ and _another person's death _will_ be my fault._

She's nearly onto her platform of the fire escape, and almost jumps out of her skin when a voice says in the darkness, "Where'd _you_ run off to?"

She nearly accuses the voice of being Cupid, but then she catches sight of the glow in the dark design Percy had been wearing on his shirt yesterday, and relaxes with a sigh. "You scared me, Percy," she says, chuckling a little bit.

He repeats his question. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I just…" She struggles to find the words to spin. "I just needed to clear my head, you know?"

He nods, and she realizes he's shivering. She cocks her head at him. "Do you want to go inside?"

It takes him a moment, but he whispers, "Yes, please." He moves so that Annabeth can slide open the window, and she gestures for him to go inside first.

"I don't have any electricity," she reminds him, shutting the window behind her after she's climbed in, "but there's blankets on my bed and I can find those candles…" She turns around to face him, and her breath catches in her throat.

Tears stream down his cheeks and he's opening his arms, waiting for a hug. She doesn't hesitate to give it to him; taking a step forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulling him towards her.

Percy buries his face in his shoulder. His limbs are wrapped around her so tightly, like he's afraid she might disappear if he loosens his grip even a tiny bit. He starts to break down, sobbing and shaking into her embrace.

"Shh, shh, shh," Annabeth whispers, rubbing his hand up and down his back. "It's oka–" She cuts herself off, because it's _not_ okay. Some mad god is planning on killing one of her friends every two weeks if she doesn't get the boy in her arms to fall in love with her. Not to mention said boy is _taken_.

So, yeah. _Not_ okay.

"You're here," she murmurs into his ear instead. "I'm here. Tyson and Nico and Rachel and Hazel and Jason are all here too. Bianca may not be, but…everyone else is _safe_." _At least for two weeks, _she finishes in her head.

He sobs harder. He bites down on her shoulder to muffle the sad cries and angry screams, and she lets him. She can't really feel the pain anyway, but she guesses he's going to leave a mark.

The sobs and screams and _tears_ finally stop, but they stay in place for a long while, because he's shaking and trying to catch his breath.

"It isn't _fair_," he stresses, warm, hiccup-y breath fanning out across her neck.

"I know," she murmurs, running a hand up and down his back.

"It isn't _fair_," he repeats, before adding onto his sentence. "First my dad, and now Bianca? How many people will God kill off before he decides I've finally had _enough_? Because I've already _had_ enough."

"Nobody else is going to die," she assures him. Her stomach ties itself into knots at the lie.

He chuckles without humor. "That's a pretty big promise to keep, Annabeth."

"But it's one I hope to," she mumbles to herself more than Percy. "Here," she says louder, and leads him over to her bed and lets him get cuddled up in her blankets. She grabs her candles, lights them, and sets them on the window sil as she had done so many nights ago.

When Annabeth faces him again, Percy's peering at her like he can't figure her out, but wants to. She furrows her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

"Why aren't you crying?" he asks bluntly. "You look super sad like everyone else but everyone else is crying. So…why aren't you crying?"

_Because I'm dead and have no bodily functions. _She walks over and sits next to him, tucking one knee to her chest. "My ma always used to tell me, 'Annabeth, don't cry,'" she says instead, chuckling, not even trying to impersonate her mother because she's long since forgotten what Athena sounds like. "'It makes your face all blotchy and ugly. Look at Silena Beauregard; _she_ doesn't cry, and see how beautiful she is?'"

Her words earn a small chuckle from Percy. "She actually _said_ that?" he questions. She nods. "How _old_ were you?"

"About six or seven? I honestly don't remember."

"Was she mean, or something?"

She shakes her head. "No. My hometown…they were just…really, _really_ old-fashioned. If you weren't pretty, you couldn't get a husband, and that's all that mattered for girls and women; get a husband."

"Did you?"

"Hmm?"

"Want a husband?"

"Kind of." She traces two of her fingers over the mattress. "Well, I mean, _everyone_ dreams of finding true love and all that, including me, but it wasn't my _priority_. I spent more time thinking about which pranks to pull with my brothers than who I'm going to cour–_date_, than other girls."

"Were there…" Percy clears his throat and, when she looks at him, his eyes are turned to the ceiling. "Were there any guys that you had your eye on?"

"There was this one boy," she admits, flashing back to blond hair and blue eyes. "His name was Argus. He was my best friend's brother. But…I haven't seen him in a really long time."

"Oh."

They slide into silence, content with sitting there. Slowly, the pair leans against each other, until their bodies are pressed up against the others. Percy shifts slightly, and Annabeth looks up at him. They're so close the tips of their noses are brushing.

He opens his mouth. "I–"

"Percy! Annabeth! Come up here, please!" comes a voice form above.

"That was my mom," he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"We should probably get up."

"Yeah."

But they don't, and she's okay with that. She could sit here for years, staring into his sea green eyes.

_Yep, _she thinks, _green is my favorite color._

_Green._

_Green with envy._

_Rachel._

_Cupid._

_Grief._

The train of thought causes her eyes to widen, and she jumps up like he burned her. "I–um–" She brushes invisible dirt off her shirt, stuttering. "W-we should p-probably see what Sally wants, huh?"

He's looking at her with a startled expression. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah," he agrees quietly. Then, he clears his throat and says louder, "Yeah. We should go."

He climbs out of the blankets, and she opens the window for both of them. They head up the fire escape to clamber into the Jackson's apartment, where Sally is waiting for them.

"Finally," Sally says. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her eyes are brimmed with red. It looks like she hasn't gotten any sleep yet, which it probably true. "Percy, dear, I already set out pajamas if you want to change. There's pillows and blankets on the couch for you, Annabeth."

"But…" Her eyes flash over to the couch, where Sally has made the comfiest looking bed setup that Annabeth has seen in a while. She shakes her head. "Mrs. Jackson, you really didn't have to do all this. I'll be fine."

"Dear." Sally places a hand on her arm. "You saw your friend get shot just _hours_ ago. I'm not letting you sleep in that cold apartment all on your own."

Her chest tightens, and she swallows the lump in her throat. "Thank you," she whispers.

"No problem." Sally smiles and squeezes her arm before letting go. "You can pick whatever pajamas you please. Mine might be too small, so you might want to grab Percy's…" She rambles on.

Ten minutes later, Annabeth is clad in a pair of Percy's sweatpants and a shirt of his that only slightly hangs off her frame. (She _is_ an inch or two taller than him.) She's brushed her teeth with a toothbrush Sally handed her, and she's climbing onto the couch.

She rolls herself in the blankets. Sally comes by and kisses the top of her head, like she's already adopted the blond into the family.

Even though she can't find sleep, there's this warmth in her chest that makes her smile throughout the rest of the morning.

;

**1891**

Athena and Frederick refuse to look at each other.

Ever since Frederick slapped her, they've been avoiding the other like a plague. Annabeth knows that Malcolm is picking up on the weird vibes, and Bobby and Matthew are starting to, too.

Annabeth doesn't let her parents be alone at any point in time. She can't really _do_ anything if Frederick were to try anything else again, but she likes to think that she can. Likes to trick herself into thinking that Athena and Frederick can see her, and won't do anything in front of her that might cause damage to her.

It's impossible, she knows, but what is mankind without hope?

This day, she's staring intently at her mother from where she sits at the table. Athena is currently putting sheets on the sofa in the parlor, moving around the assortment of throw pillows. She seems to be deep in thought, her brow creased.

She wipes her palms on her dress as she disappears down the hallway to where her and Frederick's room is located.

Speaking of Frederick: The blond man swings the front door open a couple minutes after she does this. He doesn't announce his presence–instead opts for searching the house for any sign of another living human being.

When he stumbles upon the parlor, he stares at the set up on the sofa until Athena enters the room.

"What is this?" he asks gruffly.

"Oh!" Athena, previously not aware of his presence, nearly drops the larger pillow that she's holding. She fumbles for it before hugging it to her chest. "Frederick!" she exclaims. "I-I didn't…know that you'd be home so soon. I thought you were comin' home with Mal–"

"What _is_ this?" he demands, cutting her off.

Athena face loses all color, and Annabeth pushes back her chair to stand next to her mother. Neither of them are aware of the ghost in their house.

"I-I just thought…" She takes a deep breath and meets Frederick's eyes. "I just thought that I could sleep in here for the next few nights."

"_What_?!" He takes a threatening step forward, and she takes a terrified one back. They're in the hallway, now.

She opens her mouth to reply, raising a hand in the air, and he roughly grabs that hand, pinning it over her head. He shoves her against the wall roughly.

"Pa!" Annabeth claws at his back, trying to throw him off, but she slips right through and falls on the floor.

"You are my _wife_," he stresses. "You sleep with _me_."

"Well, I–" Athena levels her steel gaze with his. "We aren't _speaking_, Frederick."

"What'f one of the _boys_ found 'at, huh?" he demands. "What'f they _saw_ that instead of me? What would _they_ think?"

"The boys aren't allowed in the parlor!" Athena snaps, her face turning bright red with rage. "Only Annabeth was allowed in the parlor, and you–you _know_ that!"

"You. Are. My. Wife," Frederick repeats, voice deathly low. "A wife always sleeps with her husband."

"We aren't _actin'_ like husband and wife!" she yells, finally cracking. "If you hadn't been such a–such a–such an _asshole_ than _maybe_ I wouldn't of had to _do_ this! Maybe–"

She's cut off by a slap to the cheek, and Annabeth hears the front door open. "How dare you," Frederick whispers, bringing his hand up again.

"Ma! Pa!" Annabeth cranes her neck to see Malcolm entering the house with a big smile on his face. "I'm ho–" Until he sees the predicament his parents are in, and his eyes go wide.

"Malcolm!" Athena cries, catching sight of her second-born.

Frederick whips around, immediately releasing his wife. She slides to the ground, clutching her wrist. "Mal–" he tries, but Malcolm has already sprinted out the door.

"Malcolm!" Annabeth shouts, scrambling up to run after him, though he can't hear her. He dashes out into the woods, jumping over shrubbery and weaving in between trees. She follows him to his unknown destination, not wanting him to be alone after what he just witnessed.

He leads her out to a clearing, and her breath hitches and she stops dead in her tracks when she sees the broken-down shed off to the side. Malcolm runs right in, though, slamming the door shut behind him. Sobs come out of the rotted wood.

Annabeth can't believe it. They haven't been here in _years_–not since the Lee Thing.

If he came _here_ of all places, then he must be seriously upset. And this is just the beginning of their parents' fights; she doesn't want to know where he'll go next time, or the time after that.

Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she steps forward, ready to comfort him in whatever way she can.

But then, she hears something–twigs snapping and the sound of muffled speaking. She changes her direction and walks over to the treeline, peering into the woods from where she heard the noises.

She catches sight of dark hair and instantly recognizes the voice.

_Lou Ellen?_

The sheriff's daughter seems to be on a mission, stumbling over rocks in a straight line. Annabeth furrows her brow, wondering what she's up to.

She glances at the shed, then at Lou Ellen. She does this several times.

Then, just as Lou Ellen is about to fall out of sight, she makes up her mind and follows Lou Ellen into the unknown.

;

Lou Ellen mutters to herself as she walks through the woods, following the footsteps in reverse. She trips over another rock, causing another round of grumbles to escape her mouth.

She glances behind her, like contemplating going back, but then she shakes her head. "No," she says to herself. "Father's not gettin' any closer. I gotta find the killer."

Annabeth floats behind her, desperately wishing that Lou Ellen would just _give up_. She doesn't want her friend getting tangled up in this. "Jus' leave it ta your father!" Annabeth exclaims, but she doesn't hear her. She continues following the footsteps the Chases' left.

The ground begins to slope slightly, before taking a drastic dip into the earth. Lou Ellen stops so that she doesn't fall into the ditch Luke put Annabeth's body in.

She maneuvers around it, circling like a vulture. She stops to peer at anything that stands out–a rock that glints in the sun, a track left by an animal, a green leaf amongst the dead brown ones. She bends down for one of the latter.

The leaf is on its way to decay, brown covering the tip and edges of it, but there's an unnatural rust-colored spot in the middle. Lou Ellen picks it up, peering, before nudging the leaves it had rested on away. Where the grass should have been green, it's the some rust color on the leaf.

Lou Ellen starts shoving the mass of leaves in a straight line. More rust-painted grass.

It's a trail, Annabeth realizes. Probably of her own blood.

Lou Ellen braches out, and, sure enough, this grass is a healthy green. A triumphant smile spreads across her lips.

"Got you," she whispers.

;

**2015**

When Annabeth hears someone's door open, she turns onto her side and pretends to be asleep.

The person, obviously tired, runs into some piece of furniture, cursing out loud, and Annabeth identifies it as Percy.

"Percy?" she asks, trying her hardest to lace sleep into her voice. "Is that you?"

It takes a minute, but he replies, "Yeah. It's me." She pushes herself up onto her elbows, and the boy comes into view when he flicks on the kitchen lights. From the way he and the light are positioned, she can't see his face, but she can see the way he holds himself. He probably looks horrible.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" He cocks his head at her and props his arms up on the counter. She can make out a rectangle-like object in his hands; probably a phone. No light is glaring from it, though, so she isn't sure.

"A little bit, yeah," she lies, playing off the _oh yeah I'm definitely normal and can sleep and stuff_ vibe. Hopefully. "Is something…_else_….wrong?"

She can feel him staring at her, and it unnerves her a little that she can't see his face. Then, he sighs, dropping his head a little. "Yeah. I just…" He walks over and plops miserably on the couch, not waiting for her to move her legs. It doesn't hurt her to have his weight on her, anyway.

Percy clicks the button on his now-confirmed iPhone, and Annabeth catches sight of a picture containing himself, Sally, and Tyson. "Rachel isn't texting me back."

She stiffens, a little bit, at the mention of his girlfriend. _Dangerous territory, _confirms the rather large part of her that's flashing red lights. _Abort! Abort!_

But he looks so sad, staring pitifully at his lock screen like he's willing it to ping with a new message. So, she nudges him with the foot trapped under his leg, and says, "She's had a long night, Percy. We all have. If she's getting sleep after what happened, then, well, good for her. That makes at least one of us."

"But…I thought you said I woke you?"

"Dreams," she blurts as an explanation. "Memories. Somewhere in between. Bad ones."

His face softens. "What kind of bad dreams/memories? But if you don't want to talk about it," he hurries, "then that's perfectly fine."

"No. I just…" She sighs, and wraps her arms around herself, not meeting his eyes. "I've seen a lot of people die, you know? In front of me. Important people to me. And I…I don't know…I kind of hoped that I'd left Death behind a long time ago."

A hand cups her knee. She looks up to be met with earnest, sea-green eyes, and it–strangely–reminds her of a baby seal.

She forces an awkward chuckle out of her mouth. "I probably made you all sad again, huh?"

He shakes his head. "No. I like learning new things about you." He squeezes her knee, and she'd be dying of embarrassment at how deep her blush was, if she could.

She clears her throat, looks away to steel her nerves, and glances back at her. "Well, you wanna know something I learned about you?"

"What?"

Wiggling her feet, she says, "You're heavy, that's what." She gets a small smile and an attempt to put more weight on her legs. "Get off!" she complains, shoving his shoulder.

He topples off of her, and the couch. "Ow!" he whines. He flips over so that he's staring at her, and sticks his tongue out.

"You're lucky I didn't jump on you like last time," she jests.

Percy brings a hand up to his face and starts laughing–like, hysterically. She laughs a little, too, but really; her joke wasn't even fully a _joke_, or a good one at that.

Then, the laughter starts to dissolve into sobs. He brings his knees up to his chest and curls into himself.

"Hey." She scrambles onto the floor and cups his cheek, nudging so that he meets her eyes. "What happened just then?"

"It doesn't feel right," he tells her, voice thick.

"What doesn't?"

"Laughing. So soon after Bianca…" He chokes up, and reaches an arm around to grasp her shoulder blade.

She tugs him a little closer, setting her chin atop of his head. "Then we won't laugh," she says softly. "Not now, anyway. But…further down the road, we will. You will. And…I'll be there." She squeezes her eyes shut, regretting the last sentence. Why did she have to say that?

_Selfish. Selfish. Selfish._

;

Annabeth stays with the Jacksons' for a couple more days. Sally doesn't want her to be alone, and Annabeth doesn't want Percy to be alone, so she's fine with it.

The morning after Bianca's demise, Sally sends Annabeth and Percy away to go set coffee from the Coffee Cloud so she can explain what's happened to Tyson, and when they come back, he's locked himself in his room.

It takes the combined efforts of Sally and Percy to get him to come out, while Annabeth awkwardly stands off to the side.

Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo come over one day before she leaves for her own apartment, explaining how Nico refuses to get out of bed, and how they–plus Mr. Grace–sent Hazel to go out for the day with her boyfriend Frank Zhang, Jason, and Piper. Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo seem to need a shoulder to cry on, and Sally is happy to lend hers, gaining some comfort in return.

The day that Annabeth decides to leave, she makes breakfast. She cooks old-fashioned pancakes and donuts from scratch. Percy adds blue food dye when she turns her back, and a bit of a hollow feeling settles in her chest as she places the blue flapjacks on the table.

They remind her of Bianca, and how they met.

It doesn't help that she's wearing a shirt that the Italian had picked out, too.

;

There's a knock on her window a day after she's moved back in.

She goes into the main room, expecting it to be Percy, but Piper McLean's face peers through the glass. A couple pairs of legs surround her.

Piper waves at her, and Annabeth points to herself with eyebrows raised. The brunette nods, and, wow, they can see her? Percy must be standing directly over her, or something.

She walks over and opens the window, letting in Piper, Frank Zhang, Leo Valdez, and a caramel-haired girl that she's sure she's never seen before. Judging by how Leo holds the girl's hand, this is the girlfriend Leo had told her about.

What's her name? Medea? Circe?

Frank frowns in concern. "Are you okay, Annabeth? You look a little pale."

Annabeth brings a hand up to her face, like she could actually feel the difference. "Yeah. I'm fine," she assures him. "It's probably the lighting. Or, lack thereof." She looks at the caramel-haired girl. "Who's this?"

"This is–" Leo starts, but the girl cuts him off.

"I'm Calypso," she introduces herself. "Leo's girlfriend and Bianca's ex."

"Oh." Annabeth's eyes widen at the second title.

Then she feels bad about her reaction, because it's already fucking _2015_, and here she is, acting like the narrow-minded person she was raised. She hoped she had been long past homophobia after coming to terms with the whole Lee thing, but apparently not.

She ropes in her expression and offers Calypso her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Calypso takes it after sizing her up. "You too."

"Not to be rude or anything," she starts after pulling away, "but what are you doing at my…" She glances down, and kicks aside a shirt from the 80's that should have been thrown out a _long_ time ago. "…_humble_ abode?"

"Well," Piper says, "after everything that happened with Bianca, we had this idea…"

"_I_ had this idea," Leo cuts in. Piper glares at him, but he continues explaining. "We go around to all Bianca's favorite places and do her favorites things, to remember everything that she liked. …Everything that she _was_ like."

"We'll bring everybody, too," Frank adds. "Hazel, Jason, Nico, Percy, Tyson…"

She blinks at them. All _she_ got when she died was a funeral, a couple prayers for her family, and fighting parents. Her friends and family mourned her, of course, but they'd never done anything like _this_.

"What? Don't you like it?" Piper questions, and Annabeth realizes she had just been staring at them for a moment or two.

"No! No, I do," she says quickly. "I was just…wrapping my head around it. Imagining what it'll be like." She smiles at them. "I like it."

"So…" Leo gives a wicked grin back. "You're in?"

She nods. "I'm in."

"Good," Calypso says. "Do you have any paper, or anything? We should probably start writing down some ideas."

"Yeah. Sure. Let me get it…" She turns around, biting her lip, and scans all her boxes, trying to remember which one had the paper in it. She kneels in front of it and searches through her stuff.

Leo and Piper start spouting out ideas immediately, Frank and Calypso giving their input. They sound so happy to be doing something for their deceased friend that it causes a slight smile to stretch across Annabeth's lips.

Then it falls.

One of them could be the person to die in nine days' time, she remembers.

She finds the paper. Standing up, she plasters a fake smile on her face, pretending that she hasn't signed all their death wishes just by talking to Percy, and hands the sheets out.

**AN: Yes, in this story, I made Calypso bisexual. She's a Titan, and–lesbi honest here, people–every Titan and god has more likely than not slept around with the same sex a couple times. That fact is pretty crystal queer.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or the iPhone in any way, shape, or form.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews might stop Cupid from being such an asshole! (But not really. He was **_**born**_** for that role.) Still, reviews fuel me to keep writing this story!**


	9. Chapter 8

**AN: Well, damn. It's been a while, huh? Sorry. My sister was hospitalized for a week, and I didn't get much writing (or sleep, for that matter) done during or after. But this is easily the longest chapter I've posted for this story, so, yay!**

**YEEEEEEEAH! We got TWENTY reviews on the last chapter. Dudes. You guys are **_**awesome**_**. This actually has more reviews then favorites. (I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing…) Maybe we can get twenty-five on this one?**

**To FizzyColaBottle310: I shall never stop with the puns! BWA HA HA!**

**To Horse1lover3: But then Rachel won't be happy. :(**

**To ImpulsesOfLife: You're right on the Officer Reynolds and Wilden. I wasn't thinking about the Jenna Thing while I wrote the Lee Thing, but it could be considered a reference.**

**To HydraCourt: But breaking hearts is one of my favorite pass times! (Not really, though.)**

**To liaregie: 1) She is quite nice, isn't she? 2) I don't believe he gets taller than her until Heroes of Olympus, and they're both (physically) sixteen in this story, so, yes. She is taller than him. 3) Reasons. 4) Yes! We figure out why Lou Ellen is going through all this trouble to bring down Annabeth's killer in this chapter. (But not before Percabeth feels, so be sure not to skip!) 5) A bit before then girls got married at age twelve, so I think dating at sixteen/fifteen is rather reasonable. 6) Jokes! 7) I like it go for the unexpected. ;). 8) There **_**must**_** be puns. (Wow, you really have a long review, don't you? I'm flattered.)**

**To Lost-In-A-New-World: Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Milky Ways, The Lion King, Lilo and Stitch, Titanic, or Brother Bear in any way, shape, or form.**

Piper presses the end of her eraser to one of the business cards she brought. "Bianca said she got all her books from this store."

"Yes," Frank starts, "but will they really just let us hang around so that we can pay tribute?"

Nodding, Leo adds, "It might be one of those 'you have to buy something to use our bathroom' stores."

"True." Piper bites the end of her pencil; a habit of hers Annabeth is coming to notice since they started planning their tribute to Bianca three days ago. "What do you suggest, then?"

"We used to spend a lot of time in the library," Calypso says wistfully. She gazes down at her hands, currently rested in her lap, with a faraway look in her eyes. She laces her own fingers together. "We'd just sit there…reading. In that corner that nobody but us used, judging by the dust."

Leo shifts as his girlfriend reminisces about her ex, but doesn't call her out on it. They've all done their fair share of drawing on memories of Bianca. Annabeth thinks that Leo's sweet for not getting mad. Albeit, he's clearly a bit _uncomfortable_, but…

"What do you think, Annabeth?" Piper asks.

"Hmm?" Tugged out of her ponderings, Annabeth glances at her. "What do I think about what?"

"Where do you think Bianca would have gone; the library, or the bookstore?" she quips.

"I-I don't know," Annabeth says honestly. "I didn't…" _Know her very well. _"She didn't talk about _where_ she got her books, or if she rented them."

Piper sighs. "Thanks anyway."

"But-but I think that we should go to the library instead," Annabeth hurries. "I mean. I think Percy said something about Bianca volunteering there one summer?"

The others consider this. "Yeah," Calypso agrees. "That was before we…you know, _dated_…and she talked about it sometimes. The librarian always seemed to know her name."

"Then it's settled," Annabeth says, spreading her arms. "We'll go to the library."

Piper opens her mouth to say something else, but her cellphone pings. She picks it up and checks the message. "Damn. It's my dad." She stands, brushing the dust that Annabeth can't get out of the apartment off her jeans. "Sorry, guys. I gotta go."

Frank checks his phone, too. "I should probably get moving, too," he says.

Leo frowns. "I thought you weren't taking your grandmother out for her birthday until seven-ish."

"Yeah, but I'm going to stop by Hazel and Nico's. See if they need anything."

"How _is_ Nico doing?" Annabeth asks. "I haven't seen him in a while. Is he talking to anyone yet?"

Frank sighs and hangs his head. "No." There's purple bruises under his eyes that no one as good as Frank deserves. Everyone is too good for the mess Annabeth has forced them into. "He isn't even talking to Hazel. It's stressing her out… _More_."

"That's…sad," Calypso says with a frown. "I'll make sure to head there tomorrow." He gives her a thankful smile, and she returns with a tired one.

"We'll take her to the movies, or something," Piper agrees. She walks over to the window; the wood giving a _creak_ as she slides it open. She juts her chin at Leo. "C'mon, Repair Boy. I'll drop you off."

Leo nods and hops up. He pecks Calypso–the only one aside from Annabeth still sitting–on the lips before following Piper out the window. Frank salutes his goodbye, and then he's gone, too.

Calypso stretches. Annabeth hears her neck creak from all the restless nights. She stands, too, sighing as she reaches her arms over her head. "Do you need any help cleaning up, Annabeth?" she asks, offering the blonde her hand. She takes it, and let's herself get hauled up.

"Nah," Annabeth says, looking at the business cards and candy wrappers (Leo always brought treats, as if _Milky Ways_ would succeed in cheering everyone up, since his humor has failed to do so) that littered her carpet. "I'll be fine…Like every other day you've asked."

"I know, I know. It helps distract you, and all that, but I just…" Calypso lets out a frustrated sigh, tugging roughly at her own caramel hair like she's trying to pull the words right out of her brain. "…feel like I need to repay you."

She cocks her head to the side. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know. Just…" She makes a vague gesture with her hands. "Letting us plan this here. There's _no_ way my dad would let me bring Leo into the house."

Annabeth offers a sympathetic smile. "Your dad hard on the people you bring home?"

"You have _no_ idea," Calypso says, followed by a short chuckle, devoid of humor. She clears her throat. "I know you only knew Bianca for a couple weeks, so…Thank you. For even considering doing this kind of thing for her."

She shrugs. "It's nothing special, really. I'm just…helping Bianca go out in style."

Before she knows what's happening, she's being tackled with a hug. Calypso's arms wrap around her neck and her nose hits Annabeth's shoulder, the blonde being a half a head taller.

"You're a good person, Annabeth," Calypso informs her. "Don't let anyone tell you differently."

"Um…Thanks…?" Annabeth pats her back awkwardly. Her body tingles, as if her nerve endings are trying to revive themselves.

Calypso pulls away as quickly as she latches on. She's waving at the blonde and ducking out the window a moment later.

Annabeth frowns and looks down, drawing her eyebrows together. Spotting all the candy wrappers, she gets to cleaning.

_You're a good person, Annabeth._

She laughs bitterly under her breath. "Would she still be saying that if she knew that I technically killed Bianca?" she muses to herself.

Picking up as many candy wrappers she can hold, she heads to her barren kitchen (no one would know it's a kitchen if not for the tile) and dumps it all in the trash can Sally had gotten for her after seeing she didn't have one.

When she exits the kitchen, Percy is standing in the middle of her living room. "Oh. Hey, Percy," Annabeth greets. She's used to the sight of him in her apartment. He's come over a lot in the past few days.

"Hey," he returns, taking a step closer. "I just saw Calypso's car pull away. Was there anything she needed?"

"No," she says. "We were just practicing spells for our witch's cult." She earns a half-hearted smile for her efforts. "Do _you_ need anything, Percy?"

"Well, yeah. I…" Pink tinting his cheeks, he pulls out a movie case from behind his back. "I was wondering if…you wanted to…maybe watch this with me? Bianca and I used to watch it all the time when we were little, and I just…" He looks away.

She makes him look back with a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Percy," she murmurs.

He lets out a nervous chuckle. "Good. I didn't know if you'd…"

"What did you think I was going to go?" She chuckles, too, but it's less nervous and a bit more forced. "Throw you out?"

"Tyson did," he mutters, looking down at their feet. Annabeth realizes how close she'd gotten to him, but doesn't have the strength to pull away. "He said he…He said he didn't want to talk about her any more. _Ever again_, were his words."

"I'm sor–" He might not appreciate the sorry, so she switches her words. "That sucks."

"Yeah." He runs a tired hand over his face before meeting her eyes.

Drawing her eyebrows together, she asks, "Have you been sleeping lately?"

"Not really, no. I…" He leans his head to the side, and somehow her hand had reached up so that she could swipe her thumb along the bags under his eyes without her notice. Her eyes widen.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. _She jerks her hands back, removing herself from Percy in a not-so subtle way. She wipes her palms on her jeans in a way that people would probably find offensive.

He's giving her a bewildered look. "I didn't mean–" She stops herself, because she totally meant to hold him. She _wants_ to. Really, she _needs_ to.

"How about that movie, huh?" she forces out instead. "It looks swell."

He glances down at the case in his hands like he hadn't remembered it was there. "Yeah, I guess, but we should ta–"

"Then let's go watch it! Like, right now!" She spins him around and shepherds him out the window and up the fire escape, hopefully to where Sally or Tyson would be.

Sally (now Annabeth's new favorite person in the entire universe) is in the kitchen, staring at the computer screen. Her pointer finger hovers over the keyboard, like she wants to write but doesn't know what of.

"Hey, Ms. Jackson!" Annabeth waves, maybe a little too dramatically.

Sally rubs her forehead tiredly before giving the blonde an equally exhausted smile. "Hello, dear. How does the day find you?"

"Oh. You know." _I'm totally crushing on your son and totally freaking out about it right now. How about you? _"Rather average," she says. "Percy and I are gonna watch a movie, so if it gets too loud–"

"Oh, no, that's fine, dear." Like a scene from her worst nightmares, Sally picks up her laptop and tucks it under her shoulder. "I'll clear out of here."

_No, no, no, no no no, nononono. No. _"Okay," Annabeth says, mustering a smile.

Once Sally (whom is nowhere _close_ to being Annabeth's favorite person anymore) has disappeared in the hallway, Percy opens his mouth to speak, but Annabeth beats him to it. "How about you go put in the movie while I make the popcorn, yeah?"

He nods. "Sure." Though it looks like he wants to say more, he turns on his heel towards the living room.

She finds the Whirly Pop and the kernels and everything else she needs. She hears him playing through all the ads, and then there's rustling, like he's replacing the pillows on the couch.

"Make sure to put butter on it, please!" he requests from the other room.

"Already done." She adds a dash of salt before popping a kernel into her mouth. She can't taste it, but the texture is alright, so hopefully Percy finds it good. Grabbing the bowl, she walks out to the kitchen, to be greeted by a structure in on the ground.

Pillows are the walls and a blanket is thrown over it to make up the roof. It's backed up against the wall.

"Uh, Percy?" Annabeth asks. She can't see him. "What is this?"

He sticks his head out of the "entrance" of the structure, beaming. "It's a pillow fort, of course!" he answers in an _uh, duh _voice. "Didn't you make any of these when _you_ were little?"

"I…No. I didn't."

The smile falls from his face. "Oh. Do you…think it's childish?"

"A little, yeah."

He frowns, and Annabeth immediately misses the rare smile on his lips. "I'll just take it down, I guess…" he mumbles, dragging himself out of the fort.

"Wait!" He looks up at her. She places the bowl down so that she can fiddle with her thumbs and try to get him smiling again. "I-I mean that your _craftsmanship_ is childish."

He raises his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"Y-yeah. I mean, we've got all these wonderful materials at our disposal, and _this_ is all that you can come up with?" she demands, gesturing to all the discarded pillows and blankets Percy hadn't used. "Move over. I'll show you how to build a _real_ man's pillow fort."

He shimmies over so that she can crawl in. Under her guidance, they tear down the fort start from scratch. They place down pillows and drag over chairs to string up their blankets. Annabeth suggests that they use the front of the couch as the back wall, so that there's more pillows to build a second room, and then a third. The finished product spans across most of the living room, and they're both giggling like madmen by the time they're almost done.

"Ugh!" Percy struggles to get the last blanket pinned under a chair. It doesn't quite reach. "I don't think this is going to make it. We might need duct tape."

Annabeth nods. "Where is it?"

Still holding the corner of the blanket, he points with his free hand to a tall end table. She stands and pads over, opening the drawer. She spots the duct tape immediately, her fingers reaching out to grasp it, but then she sees what lays on top of it.

It's an old Western-style revolver. It reminds her of Luke's gun, and she rips away her hand as if she'd been burned.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She tries to school her features. It would raise questions, if she reacts badly to a gun that _should_ have no meaning to her. "You…uh…keep a gun where Tyson could grab it?"

"Oh! Yeah, that? That doesn't work. It's some family heirloom. My great-something-granddaddy Grace lost his life when the bullet jammed during a high noon shoot-off, or something. Nobody's been able to open it or shoot it since then."

"O-okay." She steels her nerves and reaches in again, but haunting images of her brother pointing a weapon much like this at her flood her mind, and she jerks back again, letting out a pitiful whine.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay, Annabeth?"

She nods. "Yeah. I just…didn't have the best experience with guns." As if to prove a point, her hands go to the hem of her shirt, lifting up the fabric so that it bunches around her ribs on the right side.

"Holy shit, Annabeth!" Percy is kneeling beside her in a moment, letting go of the blanket. The entire fort collapses, but Percy is too busy studying the scar tissue on her body.

The scar wouldn't have been that bad if it was just a bullet wound, but she guesses that she hadn't died right away (instead, she most likely slowly bled out in the ditch until morning, but didn't remember it), and when Luke had dragged her unconscious body through the woods, twigs and roots and rocks had further opened her wound.

Marred flesh spans across her abdomen and over the skin pulled over her ribs, always an angry red or pink. Percy drags his thumb on the scar tissue. "How did you get this?" he whispers, his eyes haunted.

"Th-that doesn't matter!" she insists, batting his hands away and pulling her shirt down. She doesn't like the way he's looking at her. As if she's made of glass. As if she could break at any moment. As if she's not strong enough for the weight of her own scars.

"Who could shoot–Who could _hurt_ you like this, Annabeth?" he demands, looking enraged. "I-I'll beat him into the ground!"

"It doesn't _matter_," she states. "He's long gone, Percy. There's nothing you can do to him."

"But–"

"Can we not talk about this? Please?" she pleads. "I really don't want to drag up any more bad memories that I've already gone over in the middle of the night."

He looks like he's about to protest, but he grudgingly accepts the fact that she doesn't want to talk about her scars. "Fine," he sighs, and she gives a thankful smile.

There's no hope in rebuilding the pillow fort in a reasonable amount of time, so they climb on top of the mountain of cushions with the popcorn on Annabeth's lap. Percy presses the _Play_ button on the remote.

Throughout the movie, Annabeth makes remarks like "He wouldn't be able to survive on just bugs," and "Wouldn't she be either his half-sister or cousin?" and Percy just rolls his eyes, telling her not to question it. They giggle and sing along, though Percy's eyes drift down to where her scar is located under her shirt every so often.

They watch several more movies after that. Her favorite is about a little girl befriending an alien, and then a film about a poorly-made ship crashing into an ice burg turns Percy into a blubbering mess.

("Why didn't he get on the raft with her?" "Because he _loves_ her, Annabeth!" "But there's clearly enough room for both of them–" "STOP QUESTIONING THIS BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE, YOU UNCULTURED _SWINE_!")

It's getting dark outside by their sixth movie, and it's clearly taking a toll on Percy. His head lolls to the side, dropping on her shoulder, and she freezes. It'd be rude to push him off (she swears that's the only reason she doesn't), so she slowly forces herself to relax.

"I think I get it," he mumbles sleepily. On screen, two brothers are morning the loss of their older brother, killed at the claws of a bear–or maybe that fall off the cliff did him in.

"Get what?" she prompts.

He lets out a loud yawn before muttering, "Why you tried to jump."

She tears her eyes off the screen in an instant to stare at him, explain to him that _no_, he _shouldn't_ get it, but he's already fallen asleep.

;

**1891**

Annabeth follows Lou Ellen through the forest. She pleads and begs for her to stop, for her not to get mixed up in this, but the sheriff's daughter keeps trudging on, oblivious to the ghost shouting next to her.

The blood path leads them out to the treeline, right across the street from Luke's shop. Lou Ellen ducks behind a tree trunk at the sight of people trekking up and down the road, and sits there. She doesn't talk out loud for Annabeth to conveniently hear her plan, so Annabeth is stuck floating next to her.

It grows dark. An owl screeches somewhere deep in the woods. The sound that used to comfort Annabeth at night, after Athena told her of the bird's wisdom and guidance, but it makes her jump.

"You really should jus' tell your father about this. You don' owe me anythin'," Annabeth says, wringing her hands together. "Don't jus' go chargin' in, Lou. Mr. Thanatos'll know what ta do."

But Lou Ellen keeps staring ahead.

"Why can't you jus' listen to me?!" she demands.

No reaction.

"GAH!" She slams her fist into a tree with a scream of frustration. _Why can't they stop and _listen_ to me, if only for a moment?_ The skin over her knuckles break, but there's no trickle of blood. Annabeth realizes that all her blood is spattered on her dress (that she hasn't had the chance to change out of, by the way) and on the ground and all over Luke's hands, instead of pumping through her body.

_Oh God,_ she thinks. _I'm _dead_._

The full realization of this hits her like a runaway train. "Oh, God," she mutters, stumbling back. Her back slams on the tree. "Oh, God."

She had dreams. She was going to marry Argus, or maybe not, since there's so many other fish in the sea she could have met. She was going to leave this town and make the world a better place. She had a family; friends and parents and brothers she was ripped away from too early.

She had a _life_.

"God-fucking-dammit, _I'm dead_."

She's about to sink to her knees and try to see if she can cry now that's she's accepted her fate (or lack thereof), but the last light on the street goes out, and Lou Ellen is on her feet.

Annabeth wipes her eyes–kind of pointless, since she still can't cry–and scrambles up.

Searching for something, maybe a clue, Lou Ellen creeps up and down the street, completely silent thanks to the moccasins that have replaced her normal shoes for the night.

"Aha!" Lou Ellen says in triumph. Annabeth scrambles over and watches her lift a scrap of fabric from Annabeth's dress. The sheriff's daughter creeps closer to Luke's shop, finding a trailing of dried blood on the bottom of his wall.

"Could it be him…?" Lou Ellen mumbles to herself. She goes to open the door, but it's locked, and forcing her way in would surely wake Luke. She circles the building until she finds an unlocked window.

Carefully, Lou Ellen lifts the glass, stilling as it squeaked, but continuing when there's no movement from inside. Using a crate to boost her, she slips inside. Annabeth follows.

Like a fairy, Lou Ellen moves without noise. She shifts items on the shelves, obviously searching for something. Once she decides there's nothing there, she moves onto Luke's counter.

Annabeth keeps watch, nervously twiddling her thumbs and shifting her weight. What will Luke do if he finds Lou Ellen in here?

"Good _Lord_."

Annabeth scrambles over as Lou Ellen pulls out a rust-colored box. She gags, a little, when she figures out what it's painted in.

Taking a deep breath, Lou Ellen flicks the clasps and opens the lid. Inside are Annabeth's shoes…and Luke's gun. The murder weapon. Annabeth stares, wide-eyed, lump in her throat, as Lou Ellen carefully picks up the gun. She unlocks the barrel and grabs one of the bullets.

"Luke's the killer," she whispers. "I found 'im. I found your killer, Annabeth."

They're both so entranced by the gun that murdered Annabeth that they don't hear the person descending the stairs until it's too late.

"Malcolm? Is that you? If Mother needs sugar–" Luke cuts himself off when he realizes that it isn't Malcolm. His eyes widen when he sees what Lou Ellen's holding.

His stance turns offensive. Lou Ellen shrieks and runs to the door, rattling the knob, but it won't give. She makes a break for the window, but Luke is there, grabbing her shoulders and throwing her to the ground. She tries to cry out again. Luke clamps his hand over her mouth, shoving her head back into wooden floor.

"Give–me–that!" He finally rips the gun out of her hands, locking the barrel into place as he stumbles to his feet. He levels it at her.

Scrambling back, Lou Ellen opens her mouth to scream for help again, and Luke cuts her off with a creepily calm voice. "You dare shout a word, and you'll 'ave three bullets in your brain before the neighbors can hear you."

That makes Lou Ellen–nerves of steel, doesn't care about the consequences, sheriff's daughter Lou Ellen Thanatos–clamp her jaw shut and gulp visibly.

"Luke! Stop!" Annabeth rushes forward, tries to throw him aside, but just like with their father, she slips right through. She crashes into the wall, but neither Lou Ellen nor Luke give any indication of hearing her racket.

"Stand," Luke orders, voice deathly low. Lou Ellen scrambles up, clutching at the door handle, like the locked door might open from heat of her palm. "Turn around."

When she does, Luke, gun still leveled at her, fumbles around one of his shelves until he grabs the rope. He approaches her and binds her hands to her back with one hand.

"Tell me," Lou Ellen prompts, hissing when the gun digs into her back, "what are you goin' ta do ta me now that I know your darkest secret? That I know ya killed your own sister?"

His response is to dig the gun further into her skin, causing her back to arch to get away from the weapon. "Now, we're gonna go on a walk, and we're gonna go quietly. _Got. That_?"

She doesn't answer. He shoves her forward, turning around and leaving himself unguarded, but she can't do anything. Annabeth can't, either. No matter how hard she tries to untie Lou Ellen, her shaking fingers pass through the ropes.

After finding the key, Luke opens the door and pushes Lou Ellen through. He locks it behind him.

Hand on her shoulder and gun pressed firmly to her back, he leads her out into the woods. The winding path between trees and bushes is familiar, and it sends dread racing up Annabeth's throat as she does what she can; follow and not have a say about what is about to go down, as if a pathetic hunting dog.

It's rather fitting, actually. She does feel quite like a groveling animal, what with the way she's sobbing and begging as she stumbles alongside them, completely ignored.

Once they get to the ditch–the one where Annabeth woke up in–Luke shoves Lou Ellen down. She rolls down the side, powerless to stop the fall without her hands. She halts at the bottom, and flips herself over so that she's sitting. She's glaring at Luke with pure, unbridled hatred, but she looks like she might throw up at any moment.

He jumps down. He crouches in front of her, gun looking flimsy in his hand with the way he's holding it. His hair shines white in the moonlight, almost as if _he's_ the ghost.

"What _I_ want to know," he starts, twirling his gun, and her purple eyes train on the weapon, "is why ya've gone through so much trouble ta find me."

"Ya were sloppy, coverin' your tacks," Lou Ellen spits.

He levels the gun at her again. "I didn' ask how. What I done asked was _wah-y_?" He stands up, her chest heaving with a sigh of relief when the gun isn't pointed at her anymore. He begins to pace, hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I mean, congratulations, ya found the killah, Lou," Luke says. "Your father clearly hasn't even got close. That would mean ya cared more 'bout this case than him." He looks at her again, but doesn't point the barrel at her. "But you don' owe Annabeth anythin'. You two were barely friends, if ya could even call it that."

Lou Ellen struggles, rolls her shoulders as the bonds clearly start to pull at her muscles all the wrong ways. "If tha roles were reversed, I know you woulda done the same thing fer Thalia."

Luke ponders this, seemingly not understanding. Then, his eyes widen in realization.

"You _loved_ her," he breathes, his expression unguarded. "You loved her. More than Argus, apparently, since ya're tryin' ta find out what happened."

Lou Ellen sets her jaw, but doesn't deny anything. She keeps her eyes trained on his gun.

"Ya loved her, but yet, ya purposefully kept your distance, 'cause ya knew she could never be yours. But that didn't stop ya from fallin' for her."

He laughs. Annabeth can't tell if it's genuine or bitter. She's a tad bit in shock right now.

Lou Ellen loved her? As in, loved her like she was _in_ love with her? How had she not _noticed_?

"And all these years, she knew ya had a crush. Lou Ellen; always watching, always staring, always blushing. Annabeth jus' thought tha crush was on _me_."

"Don't ya _dare_ speak her name, you damn, disgusting pig!" Lou Ellen snarls. "You took her–from ya-self, your family, her friends, _me_." Her voice cracks, tears welling up in her eyes. "Annabeth was gonna have a happy life. A person like her don't come around often, and she deserved a happy life. Even if…even if I would jus' be watchin' from the sidelines."

She ducks her head, shoulders shaking. "WHY COULDN'T YA JUS' ACCEPT YOUR ROLE IN THALIA'S LIFE?!" she finally explodes. "EVEN IF YA CAN NEVER, EVER HAVE HER–" She deflates, breathing shallow.

"Why couldn't ya jus' find peace knowin' that that rich, blond future husband of hers would be able to provide for her in a way ya never can? Why couldn't ya jus' be happy wit' knowin' her? Bein' even a small part of her life?" she whispers, voice breaking and tears streaming down her face. "Now I _can't_ because ya took all your anger out on Annabeth. While you–you, the sick bastard who killed his own sister, still gits ta see Thalia."

Lou Ellen's crying now, shaking with the force of her sobs. Luke crouches down again, but not to point his gun at her. His expression is pained, yet understanding, because, Annabeth realizes, he and Lou Ellen are in the almost exact same predicament.

Thalia loves Luke, but they can never be together. Not even secretly, because Thalia could be put to death for such a sin.

Annabeth and Lou Ellen can never be together. Not only would both be put to death, but Annabeth doesn't feel that way about Lou Ellen. She was just a friend to her. All women were.

"This is tha first time ya've let yourself cry fer her, huh?" Luke questions. All he gets in response are gasping sobs. "They woulda questioned ya, because ya really _don't_ owe her anythin'. They would start talkin' and then they would figure out your sin. Best-case-scenario you'd be shipped off somewhere, away from 'er ta quell those sapphic feelin's. Worst case…death."

Lou Ellen glares up at him through eyelashes painted with tears. "Are _you_ gonna kill me for lovin' her?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. Mah brother found 'imself in a per-dicament like yours. I'da have to put a bullet in his skull if I'd put one in yours for this. Ta me, for him, love is love, no matter the gender."

Lou Ellen sniffles, looking down at her lap. "So…ya're gonna let me go?"

The gun clicks, but she doesn't seem to hear it. "I'm sorry," Luke says, sounding truly sincere.

He levels the barrel at Lou Ellen.

"But no one can ever know about this," he says, and Lou Ellen looks up. She pushes herself away from him and the weapon as quick as she can, pleading rapidly for her life. He gives a sad smile. "When ya get ta Heaven, tell 'er that you love her, yeah?"

"Wait! _Please_, stop–"

BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG!

;

**2015**

Annabeth is terrified.

That remembrance tour for Bianca? Yeah, it landed _exactly_ two weeks after her death, much to Annabeth's protest.

She was constantly shivering, looking over her shoulder for red eyes. It was snowing, thankfully, so she could play off her paranoia to the cold.

They visit an arcade where Bianca's initials are at the top of every high score list. Annabeth's worried that someone will get electrocuted by a broken power cord. That doesn't happen, and then they're–Piper, Frank, Calypso, Leo, Hazel, Percy, Jason, and herself, as Nico and Tyson refused to go–off.

They visit the library, and Annabeth waits for a bookshelf to tip over and crush somebody. That doesn't happen.

(Though Calypso looks a little crushed by memories as she stares at the corner she talked so fondly of.)

Rachel shows up as they arrive at a bridge that Bianca used to spend quite a bit of time at–a quiet structure, with no cars passing over and a frozen river going under it–and it's the first time Percy has seen her in person since Bianca's death.

He collapses into her arms immediately–"Why weren't you there? Why weren't you there?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel mutters, pressing kisses to his hair, his temples, his cheeks, his nose. "I just…needed some time. I was close to her, too. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He forgives her, and Annabeth curls her lip at them. Where _had_ Rachel been when Percy needed help? Annabeth had been the one to hold him and dry his eyes. He'd gone to her to watch movies, because Rachel had been unavailable.

Something twists in her chest at the realization.

Annabeth had been second choice. (Maybe even third, as Tyson could easily be second.) The back-up plan to cheer him up.

She growls low in her throat and tears her eyes away from the _couple_. She spots Calypso leaning against the railing, and makes her way over. She sets herself next to her.

"You guys spend a lot of time here?" Annabeth asks.

"Hmm?" Calypso pulls her longing gaze out of space and directs her attention at the blond. "Oh. Yeah." Her hand falls to a heart etched into the concrete, her fingers trailing over the engraved initials within. _BA + CT_. "This was where we had our first date, actually."

"Sounds like you guys had a fun time," she replies to Calypso, but she's looking over at where Percy and Rachel are embracing. _Still_. Hopefully anyone who looks back will think she's watching Leo, Jason, and Piper fool around to the best of their abilities.

"Definitely. I thought we were just going to the library, because she said she needed to return her book, but she surprised me here, with a candle-lit dinner. She asked me to go steady, since we had already kissed a couple times but never really ta–You like him, don't you?"

"I–What?" Annabeth immediately snaps her gaze back to Calypso. "I-I don't know what or whom you're talking about."

"Oh, please." Calypso rolls her eyes. "I saw the way–"

"Hey, Calypso!" The two girls turn to watch Leo clamber up onto the thick, concrete railing, arms spread. Further down the bridge, Hazel and Frank step out of the way for a biker. "I'm Queen of the world!" Leo shouts.

Calypso giggles. "You sure are," she says, and Annabeth thinks she's off the hook, but then she continues, "I saw the way you were looking at him. That wasn't a platonic look."

Annabeth sighs. She folds her arms and sets her chin on them, pouting. "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"Oh, you were," she agrees, a slight laugh to her voice to lessen the mood. "I'm just an expert at this kind of thing."

"What are you–Some kind of bisexual love goddess?"

"Pansexual, actually, so, something like that," Calypso says with a grin. It falls quickly, and she leans in close. "But, in all seriousness, you really don't want to go down that path. He's taken."

Annabeth chuckles bitterly. "What, really? I had _no idea_."

"Even though we just met, like, a week ago, I consider you a friend, Annabeth. I don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"It's not love…At least, I think so. Not yet. It's much too early for that."

"Well, then, good," Calypso says, her grin back. "If it's just a crush, then you can move on faster. I have a whole bunch of girl-friends who'd _love_ to sink their teeth into a fine piece like you."

She thinks of Lou Ellen. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm straight, so…"

Calypso bumps their shoulders together. "Every girl is straight until they see Ruby Rose."

"Who's Ruby Rose?"

She earns a blank stare. "You seriously did not just ask me that." She opens her mouth, but Calypso is already talking again. "I'm going to walk away now, before I throw you off the bridge."

Annabeth raises an eyebrow as Calypso pulls away from the railing. "Just for not knowing who this…Sapphire Rose is?"

"_Ruby_! Ruby Rose!" Calypso calls from where she's already standing next to Piper and Jason.

Annabeth sets her chin back down on her arms, before lolling her head to the side so that she can watch as Leo shouts, "I'm Queen of the world!" over and over again. Hazel and Frank have made their way closer to the group, along with the biker.

She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath that does nothing for her lungs. _Friend. _Calypso called her a friend. Do any of the others think of her as such yet? …Does Percy? If so, will he always think of her as _just_ a friend?

That would be horrible, if he always would. Then there would be no other people to think of her as a friend.

An ear-piercing scream cuts through the air as Annabeth remembers, _oh, yeah, someone's supposed to die today._

She opens her eyes just in time to see the biker, arm outstretched, staring at her with sharp blood red eyes and a taunting grin. Dread makes her freeze.

"_LEO_!" many, many people scream, and Annabeth notices Leo toppling forward, off the bridge, onto the river below. Frank and Percy tackle the man on the bike. She hears the ice CRACK under the weight of the Latino, and she rips herself away from the railing, close on Jason, Calypso, and Piper's heels.

The four dash down the slope and onto the ice. Calypso slips and falls, slamming into Piper. Jason practically rips off his jacket. He goes forward, as if he's about to jump into the hole in the freezing, icy water, and end another life today.

"Wait!" Annabeth grabs his shoulder and pulls him back, forcing him onto the ice with Piper and Calypso. She strips off her jacket as she sprints forward, diving into the river.

It's blue, blue, blue under the water, and hard to see. She can make out a bit more than vague outlines, but that's it.

She squints and swims down deeper, letting all the air out of her cheeks, as she doesn't need to breathe. There's a current, but it's not enough to drag an a-hundred-and-twenty pound teenager very far down stream. Hopefully.

There's several moments when she can't find Leo–she can't find anything–and then she spots that ugly sweater made in the most vibrant shades of orange, pink, red, and a touch of blue that Calypso had gotten mad at him for wearing, but now she'll probably be thankfully for it.

She swims her way over to him. He's not moving; just letting the current drag him along for the ride. There's a red sort-of mist floating in the water around him–blood, and a lot of it.

She paddles forward and wraps an arm around his waist, tucking him to her side. She kicks and claws her way back to the hole in the ice, praying to God (Cupid can't be the only one up there, can he?) that Leo might still be alive. She _knows_ it's hopeless, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

Two hands grab her forearm and helps haul them up. She lands sort-of on Jason's lap, since the last tug knocked him over, with Leo's lifeless body beside her. Jason pushes her off and flips Leo over, bending down to give him mouth-to-mouth while Calypso grasps at the Latino's hand, tears streaming down her face and "Please!" escaping her lips like a mantra.

"Annabeth? Annabeth?" Piper's hand is in her hair, brushing the wet golden curls away, and Annabeth remembers to gasp for air as if she hasn't breathed in over a hundred years. (Which she hasn't.) "It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. You got him. You got him. Leo's going to be fi–"

Jason cuts her off, voice solemn and tears pouring out of his eyes. "He's dead."

**AN: Add Calypso/Bianca and Lou Ellen/Annabeth to the list of crack ships I have created in this story. This **_**might**_** be getting a little out of hand. Ha ha.**

**I switched it! Calypso is pansexual, as I thought that may fit her better. Lou Ellen and Bianca were totally gay though.**

**For those of you who don't know: Ruby Rose is a modern actress/a whole bunch of other professions whom everybody is gay for. (And don't even try to deny it.)**

**So, I was thinking, that maybe after I finish this main story here (don't worry; there are at least five more chapters, I believe) that maybe I could expand this 'verse with one-shots? Like, Calypso and Bianca's story? Stuff like that? Review if you want to read that kind of stuff.**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any errors, please inform me so I my fix them.**

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews will possibly stop all the crack ships!**


	10. Chapter 9

**AN: Happy **_**Back to the Future**_** day!**

**Me: *wipes sweat from brow (because apparently it's that hard for me to write a damn chapter)* That was a pretty good chapter. Maybe it will tide everyone over for, like, two weeks. I'll just take a teeny, tiny break. Maybe I can focus on my original story!**

**Me, a month later: Oh, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.**

**And that concludes this retelling of the famous story, **_**This is how Bad I Am with Dates**_**. Thank you.**

**To HydraCourt: Here's your Rey's. *flings Reynas* But, seriously, I made sure to sprinkle a tiny bit of Reyna into this. :)**

**To clo7615: Thank you!**

**To greekgeekgirlbro: Happy endings? So soon? Ha ha ha…BWA HA HA HA HA. Like **_**that'd**_** happen.**

**To Amollygamation: Hmm. I didn't know that either. I guess we both learned something!**

**To liaregie: Thank you! It's good to know that I make the crack ships work, and you don't think I'm stuffing them down your throat or anything. I've got about…two more crack ships? And, yes, that realization of Annabeth's is bitterness/jealousy.**

**To Florence23: Thank you for the suggestion (it's quite flattering to know that people are making fan fictions–well, theories, more likely–of my fan fictions, ha ha), but I already know how this is going to end.**

She's shaking.

Not from the water soaking her to the bone, or the crisp chill to the air.

But with anger.

_God dammit Cupid why did you do this why–_

The others obviously take her shaking for shivering, as Percy wraps her in her own jacket and his before joining Piper in the search to find bars to call the police. Jason and Frank are holding down the bastard that shoved Leo off the edge (though Jason is doing more of _punching him in the face until he bleeds_ than actually holding him).

–_he was a fucking kid with a life ahead of him why Cupid you bastard–_

"It's okay." Arms wrap around her, tucking her head under a chin. A jacket is pulled down slightly so that her cheek is up against probably warm skin with the intention of heating her up. Lips press against her temple and she's being rocked back and forth. "You did everything you could," Calypso whispers. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

–_oh how wrong you are it's all my fault I'm a bastard that doesn't deserve any of you you don't deserve this–_

"It's okay," Calypso murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "It's okay. It's okay."

Annabeth knows what she's doing. She did the exact same thing when Sofia died; comforting everyone else so that she didn't have to dwell on her own feelings.

–_it's all my fault everyone should hate me why did I bring you into this dammit Cupid–_

The frost covering the ice (as nobody had the strength to carry her or Leo's bodies off the river) crackles under someone's feet. A hand sooths over her hair.

"Piper just got off the phone with the police," Percy says, running his fingers through her sopping wet locks. "They're gonna be here any minute now. We had to pull Jason off Leo's…_the guy_ before he killed him."

Nodding but not really listening, Rachel tugs off Annabeth's boots and socks, replacing them with her and–probably? Annabeth thinks she was wearing one–Hazel's warm, winter hats so that she doesn't get frostbite. Technically, she can't, but Annabeth knows what she's thinking.

She knows what they're all thinking. All three of them are doing the _exact same thing_. Taking care of her to escape the pain.

"I'm sorry!" Annabeth finally blurts with a dry sob. "I-I'm sorry–I didn't–it's my–I couldn't–Fault–I-I-I-I–" She can't get the words out. It feels like all her anger, anger at Cupid, anger at herself, has rolled into a ball and set itself in her throat.

"Hey, hey, shh," Percy coos. "It's not your fault. You did everything you could. It's not your fault."

"You're wrong," she mutters, moving away from Calypso so that she can bury her face in his shoulder. His scent calms her, but only a little, as her nose is already tainted with the smell of the blood on her hands. "You're wrong. You're all wrong."

They continue to sooth her, like she's just a kid mumbling nonsense. And they believe that it _is_ nonsense. But it's her fault. It's all her fault.

She should leave. She should leave them alone forever.

But she can't bring herself to do it.

;

The police arrive after many minutes of repeating "You're wrong." They handcuff the guy, and almost go for Jason when they see the blood on his knuckles, but Piper informs them that he was angry. He gets a full pat down and is shown to a different car than the rest, but no cuffs.

Leo's body and killer are loaded up. Piper, Hazel, Calypso, and Rachel go in one car, while Annabeth, Percy, and Frank climb in the other. It's a tad tight, due to Frank's size, but the officers make sure they fit.

The ride to the precinct is silent, just like two weeks ago. Frank (not really Leo's best buddy, as Annabeth detected slight tension when Hazel was around both of them, but Leo had obviously moved on with Calypso and then they became friends) and Percy shed tears and whisper amongst themselves, and Annabeth broods in the far seat.

Soon enough, they're sitting in the same plastic seats a couple of them were two weeks ago. The detectives sort the witnesses into levels of significance towards the victim (significant other, family members, friends). Leo and Frank could technically be considered cousins, Annabeth learns, but they're, like, four times removed, or something, so Calypso goes in for questioning first.

"Wait!" Calypso cries. "Annabeth–She jumped in, too. To-to save–try to save–Leo."

Percy nods. "She needs a doctor!" he insists, rubbing up and down Annabeth's arm in an attempt to warm her. "She's freezing! And-and could be contracting hypothermia!"

She has a spark of irritation. Only she knows when she's freezing, so why can Percy talk for her? This had been one of the reasons why she'd been wary of getting a husband. Having a man speak for her all the time…Pfft. Like she'd let that happen.

A police officer kneels and front of her and presses the back of his palm to her forehead. "You're ice cold," he mutters, under his breath, before nodding at Percy. "We'll get your girlfriend a doctor right away, son."

"She's not my girl…" Percy protests, but the police officer has already stood up and walked away. Rachel glares daggers at the officer's back for even suggesting such a thing. "…friend."

The words sting. Annabeth arches away from Percy's touch, shifting closer to Frank. "Y-y-you m-might be called i-in next," she suggests–though Percy is probably pretty low on the 'to-be-interrogated list, since he's just a friend–feigning chattering teeth. "Wh-who knows? This g-g-gu-guy might be w-who killed Bi-Bianca, t-too."

Frank–bless the giant teddy bear–wraps an arm around her shoulders so that she doesn't have to look at Percy anymore. Hazel gives Annabeth her bright purple jacket, but the thought is appreciated.

Jason goes to be interrogated next, then Frank. Annabeth almost thinks that Percy will try to warm her up again, but Hazel slides over in place of her boyfriend and cuddles the blond into her bony side.

Parents come in. It's déjà vu when Sally tackles Percy with a hug, and when Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo are silent but comforting, and when Rachel stares at the doors, willing her parents to show up. They don't.

A dark-skinned woman in doctor's scrubs comes in with Mr. Grace. She rushes over to the plastic chairs and kneels in front of Annabeth.

"You're Annabeth Chase?" she asks, and Annabeth nods, trying to look miserable. She pulls herself off of Hazel. "I'm Dr. Maheswaran."

Those are the only words she says before proceeding with Annabeth's impromptu checkup. She gets a hand on her head and all her toes and fingers checked for frostbite. With a nod from Annabeth, the doctor unzips her jackets and pushes them aside, but not off her shoulders.

"This might be cold," Dr. Maheswaran warns, taking a stethoscope out from her bag. She places it around her head and pushes her hand under Annabeth's T-shirt, setting it over her heart.

Dr. Maheswaran listens for a moment, before her eyes widen, and she pulls herself and her stethoscope away. "No heartbeat…" she mutters, and Annabeth panics because _shit_–she forgot about that. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

She cringes, waiting to be called out on her still heart, but Dr. Maheswaran just grumbles "Darn hospital budget cuts," and storms over to a trashcan to throw away the stethoscope. She kneels in front of Annabeth again.

"Sorry," she says, checking for frostbite on the blonde's fingers again. "I don't have an extra. We'll just have to assume you're normal. I give your parents' permission to sue if you die."

Dr. Maheswaran leaves after giving her a pair of real shoes and deeming her cold, but miraculously healthy. Frank comes back, and then Annabeth is only taken to a detective's desk for questioning, because Dr. Maheswaran had said that being in a freezing interrogation room would give her frostbite.

She passes a man with a beard speaking with a detective and overhears the name Leo–probably Leo's dad–when being led back to the chairs. She settles herself in between Frank and Percy, and waits.

And waits.

And waits a bit longer.

Until Leo's dad nods at the detective one last time and makes his way over to the chairs. He clears his throat. "Which one of you is Annabeth Chase?"

Everyone points at her before she can identify herself. "Me," she says anyway.

Leo's dad drops to his knees in front of her, taking her hands into his much larger, more calloused hands. "I am Hephaestus. Thank you, for trying to save my son Leo," he whispers, a watery wobble to his voice and even more water in his eyes.

"Oh. Well…" Annabeth shifts in her seat. "…I didn't really save him, did I? So…no need to thank me."

Hephaestus shakes his head. "You dived into the water without a thought other than the intent to save my son. That is true bravery. Even if he didn't…" He gulps. "…didn't make it, I still get to bury his body, get to say goodbye one last time. So, yes, I do need to thank you.

"Here." Hephaestus stands and reaches around his neck. He unfastens a chain and holds it up for Annabeth to see. Strung on it is a golden band with a single, large fire red ruby on it. An engagement ring. "This has been passed down my family for generations. Leo was supposed to give it to the one he intended to marry. I wish for you to have it."

"M-me?" If Annabeth could blush, she would have. She's so shocked that she forgets to fake chattering teeth. "B-but won't you need it? For future generations?"

Hephaestus shakes his head again. "Leo was my only child." He sucks in a deep breath as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "Our family ends with me."

"B-b-but." _I killed your son. I killed your son. Do not give this to me. I killed your son. _She glances to the side. "Wouldn't Leo want Calypso to have it?"

"You recovered his body. My son would want you to have it."

"Calypso?" Annabeth asks weakly. _I killed Leo. Don't let him give this to his murderer._

But Calypso only smiles sadly. "Hephaestus is right. Leo would want you to have it. He'll already be guarding me in the afterlife. That's enough for me."

"B-but–" Annabeth looks at Calypso, then Percy, then Hephaestus. All seem to want her to take it. "Fine," she sighs. Hephaestus looks a tad cheered up as Annabeth lets him put the chain around her neck.

"It looks wonderful on you," he praises.

She fiddles with the ring resting on her collar bone–a token from her latest victim. "Yeah. I guess."

He gives her one last sad smile before turning serious again. "That's not the only reason I came over here.

"The man–Jonathon Smith–the one who-who pushed Leo? The police ransacked his apartment. There were pictures and videos of Leo taken from afar, and arrows; ones that matched the one that killed your friend, Bianca. From what the detectives gathered, Smith was a stalker of Leo's, and he thought that Bianca and Leo were the ones dating. He got jealous of Bianca, then he got angry at Leo because he learned that you, Calypso, and him were dating, and he…well."

"Oh my gods." Calypso covers her mouth, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh my gods." Piper pulls her into a tight hug and lets her sob against her neck, running a hand up and down her back.

"The–uh–the detective said that the 'good news' was that they are going to have Jonathan Smith locked away for a long time. He won't be able to bother any of you anymore."

Annabeth's breath hitches. Her eyes find Percy. _Could it be…? Is Cupid _really_ done? Does Percy…love me?_

"Annabeth?" Hephaestus says, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Do you have a ride home? I notice that your parents aren't here."

"I'll drive her home," Sally volunteers. "We live in the same apartment building." Hephaestus nods at her, says his goodbye to Annabeth, Calypso, Jason, and Piper, and then leaves with tears streaming down his face.

"C'mon," Sally says, offering her arm to help Annabeth up. "The police gave everyone the go-ahead to go home."

Parents come over and take away their individual children. Jason has to stay overnight, just to be sure. Annabeth, Percy, and Rachel are left, so Sally leads them to her car.

"You can sleep in our apartment tonight, Rachel," she offers, and Rachel nods. Annabeth climbs in first and leans her head on the glass, lost in thought.

_Does Percy love me? Is that it? Did Cupid finally stop?_

They pull up to the complex before Annabeth notices they drove anywhere.

Instead of climbing the fire escape, Sally leads the three through the lobby (earning a weird look from the man at the desk) and then to the elevator. _This place has an elevator? _Annabeth had never noticed that. She'd never been through the lobby before, and down any of the halls.

They arrive in Percy's apartment. "Annabeth, dear," Sally says, turning to her, "I'll set up the couch for you. Rachel…I trust you and Percy to be in the same bed. But no funny business!"

Annabeth frowns and shifts her weight, feeling…misplaced, in this situation. Rachel perks up, a little. "Really, Ms. Jackson? Thank you!" She takes Percy's hand and goes to lead him to his room, but Sally stops them.

She approaches Annabeth to feel for her temperature. "Before you go, could you draw a bath for Annabeth, dear?" she requests, a worried look on her face. "She's still freezing."

"Of course." Percy nods and dashes off.

"And, Rachel, could you find pajamas for both you and Annabeth?"

"Yeah. C'mon, Beth." Rachel grabs her hand and takes her down the hallway. She nudges open the door to Percy's room and strolls in like she owns the place. She leaves Annabeth in the middle of the room to dig through Percy's clothes.

Annabeth takes this time to look around. Percy's room is very…_Percy_. It's blue, with a bookshelf filled with movies instead of books. He has Finding Nemo curtains that must be from when he was, like, five, and a matching fishy blanket on his bed. There's clothes all over the floor and she feels the soft green carpet when she curls her toes.

"You got any preference, Beth?" Rachel asks.

"Hmm?" She turns from where she's studying a picture of Percy, Calypso, and Bianca. It's obviously from when the latter two are dating, because Bianca has her arm around the caramel-haired girls' waist, while Percy stands apart from them awkwardly, clearly the third wheel. "No. Though a pair of his bigger pants would be nice."

She looks back at the picture, at Bianca's smiling face, at Calypso's, at _Percy's_. When was the last time he smiled?

"I was supposed to go with them to the lake that day," Rachel says suddenly next to her ear. She jumps. "But I caught a cold. Percy complained for days about how he was the third wheel…Well, fifth, since Leo and his then-girlfriend Khione were there, too."

"Oh," Annabeth replies. Rachel hands her a set of folded up pajamas, tucking another under her arm. "Leo dated before Calypso?"

"Yeah. There was Khione, and then Drew, but they were bitches who used him. Reyna was great, but she was kind of distant. Calypso was the first one who really…cared for him. Loved him. Reyna could have, but she moved to California before the feelings got too deep," Rachel adds.

"Ah." She nods.

"So…" The redhead nudges her with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood. "You got any exes?"

"Me? No."

"Really?" Rachel inquires, sounding genuinely surprised. "I thought you would have attracted all the boys–and girls. You've got that whole _tortured hero_ bit going on that makes teenagers drop like flies."

Annabeth scoffs and rolls her eyes, but something pangs in her chest, thinking of Argus and Lou Ellen. "Yeah…No. Nothing like that."

"You suuuuuure?"

"Yes."

"Are you suuuuurely sure?"

She sighs. "Fine. There was this one guy. One or two kisses. A couple Sunday drives. But he doesn't count, because we never had a talk about what we were before I…left," she finishes lamely.

Rachel looks like she's about to say something, place her hand on Annabeth's arm to be comforting or something, but Percy pokes his head in. "Bath is ready," he informs her.

"Thanks." She shrugs off his jacket and throws it at him. "And thank you for lending me that," she says as she passes him to go to the bathroom down the hall. He offers her a tired smile; one that highlights the bags under his eyes.

"Do you need any help?" Rachel questions.

She nudges open the bathroom door and shakes her head. "I'll be fine. Frostbite-free, remember?" She gives a thumbs-up as if to prove her point before she locks the door behind her.

Sighing, she strips out of her clothing and checks the tub. It's full of steaming water–but Annabeth can't feel the heat when she slips in, so Percy just wasted his time (and some money on the water bill) on her.

She lathers soup onto a sponge (just because she can't feel heat doesn't mean she can't get filthy) and thinks.

Jonathan Smith was caught. Does this mean Cupid is done? That Percy loves her? She scrubs the grime off her arm. She needs to talk to Cupid, but _when_? Percy and Sally and Rachel will be watching her like hawks, probably, and Sally will never let her out at this hour of the night with potential frostbite. And Annabeth doesn't have the plausible alibi of calling her parents, since everyone thinks she's an orphan. Fetching clothes is another one she can't use, because Percy's are waiting for her on the vanity.

_Hmmm…_

She'll just have to sneak out.

A suddenly thrill goes through her at the thought. She's _never_ snuck out before. When she was alive she never dreamed about it, and when she was dead, before she met Percy…well, there was no one who would notice her absence.

She remembers stories from her friends–how Jason scaled his wall, how Piper spent ten minutes opening a door so that it wouldn't creak, how Nico thought he was turning on a light, but then the garbage disposal woke everyone in the house and he was busted. More stories flash through her mind that make her chuckle to herself and–Damn.

She deflates. She looks down at the scalding water that doesn't burn her nerves because there are no nerves to burn, and then traces her fingers over the scar tissue on her side.

_I really missed out, didn't I?_

;

Sneaking out is easier than anticipated.

Percy and Rachel are already fast asleep when she passes his room, spotting them sprawled out on his bed. (She gags a little…and glares…and thinks jealous thoughts…) Sally towels her hair for her and tucks her in, needing to do _something_ with her nervous energy. Tyson is already holed up in his room.

Sally comes in hourly to check on her, leaving when she believes Annabeth is sleeping, not feigning it, until about three in the morning. Annabeth waits until she's sure Sally isn't coming, and then wriggles out of the blanket burrito she had been rolled up in.

She sneaks over to a window. She doesn't have to worry about it squeaking, because she phases right through. She catches herself before she falls, and glides over to a building across the street.

Cupid is already there when Annabeth touches down. He gives her a charming, slimy smile. "That necklace looks wonderful on you, Annabeth Chase," he says smoothly.

"Fuck you," she replies.

"Ho, ho, ho. Cranky, aren't we?" He _tsks_. "Are you running on too little sleep? …Oh, wait." His smile turns into a mocking grin.

She glares and clenches her fists. "Jonathan Smith was caught," she says. "Does that mean Percy…Does that mean that you're done?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cupid takes a few steps forward. He raises his hand to halt all her movements, in case Annabeth would lash out. She really does want to punch him in the face.

"You know," he says, circling her, "you really inspired me in our last conversation. That whole 'fool whom just got kicked out of his partner's apartment' bit? A wonderful idea."

Annabeth's eyes strain to widen, and her still heart drops. _You didn't…_

Cupid nods, a proud smile on his face. "I did…Well, technically, the roles were reversed, since there needed to be someplace to plant the evidence, but the same gist."

He leans in close. "You just sent an innocent man to jail. How do you feel?" He snaps his fingers, and the feeling in Annabeth's tongue and jaw return.

If she had saliva, she would spit in his face. She has to settling for snarling. "Like _you're_ the one who sent an innocent man to jail," she growls, but something in her chest twists and aches.

He just continues giving her that smug, knowing, slimy smile. "Well," he says, "if you're just not going to be in a good mood, I'll take my leave."

He goes to walk off the building. She'll regret it later, pleading with him, but she has to know. "Wait!" she calls. He turns to her with a raised eyebrow and a _hmm?_ "You…never answered my question."

"What? If Percy loves you yet or not?" he taunts. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Him falling for you're…now, what did his _girlfriend_ say? You're '_tortured hero_' bit?"

"So, that's a _no_, then?"

"Look at you, so disappointed. I almost feel sorry for you," Cupid croons. "Though, if you want to know if a certain someone has feelings for you…" He pauses to give her another knowing grin. "Well, I'd better not spoil that. What would be the fun in my game then?"

And with that, he jumps off the building.

;

**1883**

"Mal-colm!" Annabeth sing-songs, skipping over to his, Luke's, and the twins' room. She sticks her head in, about to say Malcolm's name again, but there's no one in there. She frowns. "Malcolm?"

Pulling herself away from the frame, she pads down the hall, calling his name. She goes downstairs. "Ma," she starts.

"Mo_ther_," Athena corrects.

Annabeth nods absent-mindedly. "Right. Do you know where Malcolm is?"

"He's playing outside with the new boy. Why, dear?"

She frowns. Did he forget already? "Thanks, Ma!" she says instead of answering, dashing away.

"Mother!" Athena shouts after her.

Once outside, Annabeth glances around for her brother. She catches sight of him at the edge of the property, near the treeline, and scampers over to him. "Malcolm!" she calls, hopping onto his back.

"Gah!" he shouts. He stumbles, clearly alarmed, before catching his own balance and tucking his hands under her knees, keeping her in place on his back. "Annabeth!" he scolds. "Don't jus' sneak up on a fellow like that!"

She wraps an arm around his neck and pokes his ear. "Well, don' jus' forget your promises like that!" She shoves her finger roughly against his cheek, causing him to cry out again.

"Hey! Stop–that!" Malcolm paws at her arm and even lets go of her legs, but she stays on. She pokes his cheek again.

And then she's being lifted up off Malcolm, into the air, before finally being placed on the ground. "Hey!" she squeaks, struggling against the bigger hands on her upper arms.

"Now, I'm sure that we can come to an agreement." A blinding smile shines down on her. The owner of this smile is a boy that Annabeth has never seen before. The new boy, Lee Fletcher, most likely. He has almost platinum blond hair and green eyes, with a little ring of gold around the pupils when Annabeth looks closely. The boy releases her. "Right?"

Malcolm nods. "Annabeth? What was that about?"

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and pouts. "Yesterday, ya promised ta play army wit me tomorrow evening. Well, now it's tomorrow, an' you didn't hold true!"

He winces, a grimace crossing his face. "Oh. Right," he says. "I'm real sorry 'bout that."

"You better be."

Malcolm shares a look with Lee Fletcher, who looks uncomfortable to be the battlefield of this sibling feud. "H-hey! How 'bout ya play with us?" Lee Fletcher suggests.

She glances up at him through her bangs. "Really?"

"Well, of course!" Malcolm agrees quickly. "We were jus' about ta go into the woods and explore. We could…play army there."

"Yeah, okay!" Annabeth nods and tugs on her brother's sleeve. "C'mon!" She passes through the treeline, followed closely by her Malcolm and Lee Fletcher. "First, since we're gonna be playin' army, we need a base of op-er-ations," she informs them, slowly sounding out the word she just learned from Luke.

"Sounds like a plan, Beth." Malcolm smiles at her, relieved.

"I'll be headin' out this way, while you two go search over there?" Lee Fletcher says. "But stay wit-in shouting distance."

They siblings nod before they depart from Lee Fletcher. They pass through bushes and duck under trees, and Malcolm or Lee Fletcher shout every once in a while, just to make sure they don't stray too far.

Annabeth climbs on top of a fallen tree trunk, suspended slightly in the air from how it fell on another pine. It shakes and smells like rotting wood, so Malcolm grabs her hand to help her balance.

"I'm sorry 'bout skippin' out on you like that," Malcolm apologizes again. "Jus'…Lee was lookin' like a sad frog at school, so I asked 'im ta play."

Annabeth shrugs, but then she slips, so she focuses on balancing instead. "It's fine. I'm over it."

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Malcolm smiles at her. "Good. I–"

"Ey, Chases!"

The shout cuts him off. Annabeth startles, and loses her footing. Malcolm catches her and carefully puts her back on the ground.

"Knew ya shouldn't 'ave been climbin' that thing," he grumbles, before returning the shout with one of his own. "What, Lee?"

"You guys gotta see this! I found somethin'."

Annabeth perks up and sprints off in the direction of his voice. "Race you!"

"Hey! Annabeth, wait up!" She slows down a little for Malcolm. (No way is he going to beat her, anyway.)

Soon, they burst through the treeline of a small clearing, and find Lee Fletcher looking quite pleased with himself as he strikes a dramatic pose, highlighting the run-down shed next to him.

"Woah! Ain't this nifty." Malcolm approaches the shed. "Looks like some ol' school house."

"Probably," Annabeth agrees. Lee Fletcher grabs a tiny piece of glass–the remains of a schoolgirl's mirror, most likely–from inside. He bites his lip as he carves something Annabeth can't see from this angle into the wood of the doorway.

"Look!" He takes a few steps back so that the siblings can see.

_LF_

_MC_

_AC_

"See?" Lee Fletcher says, tapping the glass on the spot in-between his and Malcolm's initials. "Now we own it!" He's smiling proudly, and Annabeth returns it with one of her own.

But when she looks at Malcolm, he's looking down at his shoes, rose dusting his cheeks.

;

**1884**

They bury Sofia two days after she dies.

It's nothing special–only the family and the Graces, and a poor excuse for a gravestone in the byard. Not what Sofia deserves, Annabeth thinks, but it's the best they can do.

Argus holds her for a good five minutes, muttering apologies into her temple. Thalia hugs her for just as long, though her "You're gonna be fine. You'll see,"'s are whispered into her hair. Mr. Grace gives a round of sympathetic smiles and pats on the shoulders, and then they're gone.

Luke takes up Thalia's offer to look for something to do in town. Athena buries her face in her hands and sobs. Frederick leads her inside, and Bobby and Matthew follow like lost puppies. Malcolm is gone, disappearing into the woods, as soon as the funeral is over.

Annabeth sits on the porch, knees tucked to her chest, staring intently at the gravestone. She tries to will Sofia out of the grave with her eyes. It doesn't work.

Luke comes back a little after sunset. Annabeth doesn't glance away from the grave, but she allows Thalia to wrap her arms around her and whisper, "It's okay. I'm sorry," into her ear.

Then she's gone, too. Luke sits next to her on the porch.

"We saw these skirts in'a shop," Luke says, after a several long moments of silence. "They were a bit girly fer my tastes, but ya might like 'em."

"I don't need ta be girly anymore," Annabeth mumbles bitterly against her knees. "No one to role model for, member?"

Cautiously, he places a hand on her shoulder. "If you want ta talk 'bout it–"

"Well, I don't!" she snaps, standing up to brush him off and walking away.

"Annabeth!" She doesn't turn around. "ANNABETH!" He grabs her shoulder and forces her to look at him. She stubbornly stares anywhere but his face–his chest, their shoes, her hands, anywhere.

"You need ta talk about it," Luke states seriously. "If you jus' keep it all bottled up–You're gonna _explode_."

"No I won't! Leave me alone!" she shouts, shoving him away before taking off.

"Annabeth, wait!"

But she keeps running, running, running, into the woods. She follows the path that she and Lee and Malcolm have taken a lot over the past year. She just wants–_needs_ to be _alone_.

She trips on the root of one of the last trees until the clearing. She falls on her face, right in a patch of clovers. "Ow," she complains, rubbing dirt off her nose, and gets up to walk over to the run-down shed.

She tries to take comfort as she drags her fingers over the familiar shape of her initials. As she goes to trace over Malcolm's, she finds a new line etched in the wood. When she looks at it, she realizes it's a heart, surrounding his and Lee's initials.

Why?

She furrows her eyebrows, half-glad that this new investigation takes her mind off of Sofia.

"Annabeth!" Luke charges through the treeline at full speed, but slows down to take in the scenery. "What is this place?"

"Come 'ere," she says. Once his does, she points at the heart. "See that? Those are Malcolm's initials, and those are Lee Fletcher's."

He leans over her shoulder, an equally puzzled expression on his face. "Why is there'a heart coverin' 'em?"

She shrugs. "Like I know."

He takes a step back to survey the structure. "Is this you guy-es…'_club house_'?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It looks a little…unsafe, fer you to be spendin' your time 'ere."

She nearly rolls her eyes. "It's fine, Brother. It's build like a–a bunker. No sound gets in or out. I can show ya the inside ta prove it." Without waiting for his answer, she opens the door slowly, ready to pretend to be a butler, but when she sees Malcolm and Lee, she flings it the rest of the way open.

Malcolm has Lee pressed up against a wall with their lips connected, kissing. Lee's arms are wrapped around Malcolm's neck while his have settled themselves on the blonde's waist.

…Until the door slams open and Luke screams "Holy shit!", to which they quickly jump apart.

The four all stare at each other with wide eyes, tears starting to fill both Malcolm and Lee's. "I'm sorry!" Lee cries. He practically shoves Annabeth out of the way so that he can make his escape.

"Annabeth, Luke," Malcolm breathes, like he's just remembered they are there.

"_What the hell, Malcolm_?!" Luke finally demands, grabbing Malcolm by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the shed.

"Hey!" Annabeth squeaks in protest. She tries to get in between the two, but Luke has a tight hold and Malcolm's doing nothing but hysterically sobbing.

"_Are ya tryin' ta get killed_?!" Luke continues. "ARE YA TRYIN' TO GO TO _HELL_?!"

"No!" Malcolm blubbers, barely able to get anything out through his tears. "I was just–We were–I–PLEASE DON'T TELL ANYONE!" he finally cries out.

"Then you don't do that anymore, you understand me?!" Luke shakes him violently, and Malcolm nods and cries and begs for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry! Yes! I understand! I-I won't do…_that_ anymore!"

"Good." He seems to have calmed down, and lets Malcolm go. "Because I'd hate to lose a sibling."

"Please don't tell anyone!" Malcolm repeats, still shaking and sobbing.

"I won't. I promise. If you won't do that anymore."

"But…_why_?" Both her brothers turn to Annabeth.

"Why what?"

"Why don't ya want ta tell anyone?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed again.

"Because it isn't natural," Malcolm mutters. To her or himself, she doesn't know. "Because it's a sin. It's a sin. A terrible sin."

"But…" She frowns. "I could see how happy Lee made ya, just like how happy Ma makes Pa. Ya always smile when he's 'round. It's…love. What's tha sin in that?"

Luke kneels in front of her and cups her hands in his. "Annabeth," he says sternly. "Tha sin Malcolm jus' committed is a horrible one. Ya mustn't tell anyone, or he'll…Bad things 'ill happen, to him and Lee. Ya have ta promise not ta tell anyone."

"But…"

"Pro–mise. _Now_."

She glances at Malcolm, still crying, and remembers Lee, how fast he ran away. She looks back at Luke.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll not tell anyone."

;

**2015**

Sneaking back in is just as easy as sneaking out. Annabeth phases through the window, floats to the couch, and wraps herself into the blanket burrito again. No one would be able to tell the difference.

And they don't.

Percy, Rachel, and Sally all greet her miserably once they get up in turn. Tyson doesn't come out of his room.

Annabeth helps Sally make pancakes she can't eat, helps Rachel find clothes, and helps Percy out of bed.

She wants to leave after breakfast, needing to be alone, but Sally insists that she stay another day, so she does. Rachel does, too.

The three of them–Annabeth, Rachel, Percy–mope around all day. They watch movies to numb their minds, and…that's pretty much it.

Percy pats the seat next to his on the couch, but Annabeth refuses it and lays out on the floor. It'd be torture, anyway, sitting so close to him, but so far away, as he cuddles with Rachel.

;

Annabeth is back in her own apartment the morning after. She doesn't even stay for breakfast.

She lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling, but before she can start her Cupid-hating and self-hating extravaganza, there's a knock on her window.

A sigh escapes her lips as she pulls herself on her feet again. "Sally," she starts as she walks over, loud enough to be heard on the other side, "the hospitality is appreciated, but you're going to catch a cold in this…snow."

Instead of finding Sally on her fire escape, she finds Calypso, shaking and shivering with a backpack thrown over one shoulder and snow blanking both of them.

"C-c-can I-I c-c-come in?" Calypso asks, and Annabeth realizes she's been doing nothing but staring dumbly at her.

"Yeah! Yes, yes of course." She moves out of the way and offers Calypso her hand. She takes it, and the angle she gets down at is awkward, so some of the snow dumps right onto Annabeth.

"Sorry," Calypso mutters, touching her flip-flop-clad feet to the carpet.

"Holy shit, you're freezing." _Probably. _Annabeth can't feel Calypso's body temperature, but going by her blue lips, she guesses that Calypso's pretty cold. She starts to help brush the snow off the shorter girl. "What are you doing out in this weather in _flip-flops_?"

"It was the first pair of shoes I could find," is her explanation. Calypso busies herself with wiping the snow that had fallen down the front of Annabeth's shirt.

"No. Seriously, Calypso. What the _hell_?"

"That sounds kinda nice right now," Calypso tries to joke, but then she sniffs suddenly. Tears well up in her eyes, but she doesn't let them flow.

"My dad…He never wanted me to date Leo, or Bianca for that matter. He was okay about Bianca's death, but now, he's rubbing Leo's death in my face, and I just–I couldn't take it anymore and I…left." Her words are quick and short and choppy, but Annabeth gets the gist of it.

"Are you…okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Calypso nods, and Annabeth doubts _either_ of them are fooled. "I just…really could use a place to stay. And a friend. And you were the first one I thought of."

Annabeth blinks. Calypso wants to…live with her? She came to _her_ for comfort? An almost-warm feeling bubbles up in her chest at the thought of being needed by a friend.

"Yeah. Of course you can. I've got all this extra space. I could use a little company," she says, and Calypso beams at her. "Now, c'mon. Let's get you warmed up, yeah?"

Until the morning, she doesn't realize how absolutely wrong this arrangement could go. For _both_ of them.

**AN: *takes deep breath* Ah, the smell of crack ships, still fresh in the air.**

**So. Who do you think Cupid will kill next? Or even if he **_**will**_**? I'd love to hear your theories. (Though this doesn't mean I'm admitting or denying anything…)**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any other product I might have mentioned. The title of this fic was taken from Bastille's song **_**Laura Palmer.**_

**Constructive criticism welcome, and reviews FEED MY DEMONIC POWERS! BWA HA HA!**


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: I could have sworn I remember making a promise to myself that I'd update faster… *shrugs* Whoops.**

**OH MY GODS, GUYS. We've got 102 favorites on this fic. That's so awesome, guys. Thank you. You're all the best.**

**To writingmermaid: Thank you for your review and your suggestion, but I already know how this story is going to end. :)**

**To isamags2: Thank you!**

**To HydraCourt: Here, have a tissue. **

**To p3.25: Their connection has grown stronger, especially after Bianca's death. Percy's apartment is just above Annabeth's, so it's close enough for her to be solid in there. If one of them were to step out, however, at this point in their relationship, Annabeth will disappear. The range will only grow as **_**they**_** grow closer.**

**To liaregie: There will probably be **_**at least**_** five more chapters, though I really don't know after that. XD**

**From Guest: Interesting story so far but why in the world is 90% of the characters gay or bi?**

**To Guest: Annabeth is straight. Percy is straight. Jason is straight. Rachel is straight. Piper is straight. Hazel is straight. Frank is straight. Luke is straight. Katie is straight. Argus is straight. Tyson is straight. Silena is straight. Thalia is straight. Bobby is straight. Matthew is straight. Frederick is straight. Leo is straight. Calypso is **_**pan**_**.**

**I'm so **_**incredibly**_** sorry for offending you. I know how straight, cis people **_**never, **__**ever**_** get **_**any**_** representation in the media. **_**Truly,**_** it is a shame. ;(**

**WARNING: Blood and discussion of domestic abuse happen in this chapter. If that triggers anything, then please. ****DO NOT READ****.**

**2015**

"So…you and Calypso, huh?"

Annabeth hands the correct amount of money to Mellie and snatches the two cups of coffee. Percy picks up his own off the counter.

"You don't have to make it sound like we're dating," she says, rolling her eyes. Percy looks pointedly at the two coffees in her hands as they walk toward the door. She sighs. "I'm straight, Percy," she states as they exit the _Coffee Cloud_.

He holds up his hand in surrender. "Sorry."

"It'd be early for that, anyway, if I _was_ interested," Annabeth says. "It's only been two days since…You know."

Percy nods solemnly. "Yeah," he agrees. "Any particular reason she left her house?"

"Her dad's a jerk. He–"

"Wait." He places a hand on her arm and stops walking. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Calypso…actually told you about her dad?"

"Yes…" she says slowly. "And why is this important…?"

"Calypso never talks about her parents. Bianca and Leo had never even _met_ them, and she and Bianca dated for a _year_."

He takes his hand from her arm, and they're on their way again. "Well, from what I understand, her dad's an asshole. Her mom probably is, too, if she has one. Maybe Calypso thought asshole parents were deal breakers?" she adds. "I don't know."

Percy nods absent-mindedly, obviously lost in thought. Then, he gasps and quickly grabs her shoulder, stopping her. _Again_.

"_What_?" she asks irritably.

"What if…" he starts. He looks around before leaning in real close, like he's scared of someone overhearing. "What if her parents _abuse_ her?" he whispers, eyes wide with worry.

Annabeth's eyes widen, too. "Like…_hit_ her?" He nods, and a frightening image of Calypso bloody, on the floor with a faceless man standing over her comes to her mind. She's never remembered Calypso limping or not being able to twist a certain way, but _could_ that have really happened at some point?

Her mind turns to her parents. She remembers the early mornings Athena had to do to cover up her bruises. She remembers how both of them would shy away from the topic of their spouse.

Calypso's never shied away from talking about her parents, per say, she's just…really good at avoiding speaking of them. Better than Annabeth, probably. Even though make-up has evolved in the past 124 years, if her parents really abused her, then they probably wouldn't have cared that much to get water proof (er, well, snow proof) make-up.

"Nah," she says, crumpling up her now-empty cup and placing it in a trash can. "I think they're just assholes. Maybe the I told you so, slightly verbal abusive kind, but not physically abusive."

He raises his eyebrows questionably. "And that's better?"

She doesn't respond. _Would_ it be better? She'll have to ask Calypso about it sometime. Subtly.

"I'm going to have to visit Hephaestus sometime," Percy says, not so subtly. "He'll be…lonely, without Leo, probably." Annabeth nods in agreement, and they fall into silence.

Percy's holding his warm cup like it's his lifeline, and he's shivering ever so slightly from the cold weather, but he's actually dressed for it. He's got an ugly purple-and-neon-green wool scarf that was probably knit by a grandmother and a pair of jeans with a matching color scheme from paint. (Annabeth can't complain _too_ much about the latter, though, since these jeans fit his legs rather nicely.)

"Were you?" he says suddenly.

She snaps her eyes up her his, glad she can't blush, or else she'd be beat red. "Hmm?"

"Lonely? Were you lonely, when your family died?"

She's quiet for a moment. She thinks of the emptiness in her chest when she could do nothing watch, after they died and while they were alive. She thinks of roughly 45,290 nights spent with only her thoughts as company.

"Yeah," she admits in a mumble. "Yeah, I was."

He clears his throat. "Back when…The day Bianca died, I overheard you saying that you're brother…killed people."

"Yes," she drawls. _Where is he going with this? _

"If you don't mind me asking…who did he kill?"

"He shot and killed m–two girls."

"Not your parents?"

"No," Annabeth says, maybe a little too quickly, but it's still true. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, since you said your parents died, I was wondering if your brother was the one who killed them. Like, some sort of crazed depression after your other brothers died in the army."

"No. It was two teenage girls from our hometown."

"Did you know either of them?"

"Yeah. The second one, Lou Ellen…She was my–erm–friend."

"And the first one? Do you know her?"

She looks down at her gloved hands. "Not anymore," she mumbles.

"But…you did?"

She ducks her head, and then plays with Leo's ring still around her neck. "I'm not sure."

Percy opens his mouth to say something else, but he seems to think better of it when he catches her strong _I-don't-want-to-walk-about-it_ vibe. He throws his now-empty coffee cup in a garbage can.

They nearly get hit by a crazy driver while crossing the street. Annabeth flips him off, subtly, because Percy isn't ecstatic about rude gestures. But she's grumpy, and she wouldn't appreciate being killed. Again.

The two of them half to step into the virtually empty parking lot of a Kohl's to avoid being flattened by rush-hour traffic. This is obviously a fancy Kohl's, as music plays from speakers dotted around the parking lot.

"Oh!" Percy gasps. "I love this song!"

Annabeth strains her ears hear–it's something about _feelings_ and _telling you things he never told you_. Percy rushes past her, busting out a move underneath _the sprinkler_.

"What," Annabeth says with a raised eyebrow when he starts attempting the sprinkler, "the fuck are you doing?"

He just grins at her. He stops doing _the sprinkler_ (thank _God_), but then he's mimicking swinging a lasso.

She starts, "Don't you dare–" He throws the invisible lasso at her and pretends to pull her towards him. "No," she says firmly, keeping her feet planted.

"Oh, come on!" he whines. "I love this song! And it's almost over anyway."

Annabeth gets ready to shoot him down again, but then he clasps his hands together and sticks out his bottom lip, and plain out _pouts_ at her. She blinks.

"Fine," she sighs.

"Yay!" he squeals. He allows her to place Calypso's drink safely on the sidewalk before he grabs her hand and drags her under the speaker. He starts up _the sprinkler_ again.

"This is humiliating," she says, though she tries to mimic his dance moves anyway. It feels like she's betraying Leo when she gins, but she's been a desperate need of _fun_ lately. She can't cry from her contradicting emotions. Which is good, because she doesn't want Percy to feel like it's his fault if she were to randomly burst into tears.

Just as she's about to go into the only other dance move she knows–_the shopping cart_, as she was awkward during her dance lessons when she was alive–Percy's hand snatches hers out of the air, and he twirls her.

"This is _fun_," he corrects. He twirls her again before pulling her into an off-beat waltz.

His hands go to her shoulders because of the height difference, while hers go to his waist. They dance in a simple box step that doesn't go with the fast song. She ducks her head, glad for the thousandth time she can't blush or feel the heat of his hands through her shirt.

When the tune fades, she pushes him off, even though the next song is perfect for slow dancing.

He places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "Why can't a guy just dance with his friend without being rejected?" he says tearfully.

"Because you're a terrible dancer," she replies with an eye roll, though her heart squeezes at the alienated term. _Friend_.

(God, she's so hopelessly stuck in the friend-zone.)

Annabeth strolls back to the sidewalk and picks up Calypso's cup. He follows.

"_You're_ the terrible dancer," he insists, jabbing her with his elbow playfully.

"Oh, _please_. My toes sting from how many times you stepped on them."

"Well, _my_ shins are going to have bruises for weeks."

"You–" She's cut off by his phone ringing. He holds up a finger for a _one second_ gesture, and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"It's Rachel," Percy says apologetically.

Those two words take all the teasing out of her. She waves off his comment, feigning nonchalance. "It's okay. Go take it," she insists.

He smiles thankfully at her, moves a few paces away, and holds the cellphone up to his ear. Annabeth can't hear him too well over Adele's _Hello_ (a song Leo showed her), but she catches snip bits of words like "date" and "movie" and "tonight."

She lets her shoulders sag and scuffs the heel of her sneaker against the pavement, and pretends not to hear Rachel make Percy happy.

;

**1891**

A scream is ripped from Annabeth's throat as Lou Ellen's body falls to the ground. Luke wipes his gun of any splattered blood before approaching the Sheriff's daughter.

"YOU!" Annabeth bellows, not being able to get any more words over the lump of hostility formed in her throat. Fists balled, she launches herself at her brother, but she tumbles to the ground on the other side of him.

Luke turns over Lou Ellen's body, looking guilty. _Good, _Annabeth thinks. _I hope he carries that guilt for the rest of his life. I hope it weighs him down and down and down before he collapses under the weight of it._

Killing Annabeth happened because Luke was drunk and in love. Killing Lou Ellen, however, happened because he didn't want to take responsibility for his actions.

"Bastard!" Annabeth yells in Luke's ear, but he continues to stoically unwrap the bindings from Lou Ellen's wrists. He stands up and tucks the rope in his pocket, smearing his nightclothes with blood.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispers, brokenly, before turning his back to the body and climbing out the ditch. He disappears into the woods, and is it bad that Annabeth hopes for him to be mauled by a woodland creature?

Whatever.

Annabeth turns to Lou Ellen, and gags. Lou Ellen's body is much more mutilated than Annabeth's was, with chunks of flesh completely blown off. Half of her throat is missing from a gunshot.

Still, she approaches the body. She reaches out slowly, and, _yep_, she can touch it.

Annabeth has found that she can touch objects, not people. That means that Lou Ellen–her body–this _human being_ that had been alive, breathing just moments ago was dead.

"Idiot," she hisses. Stupid Lou Ellen, getting tangled in this homicide just to find Annabeth's killer. Stupid of her. Completely stupid.

…Annabeth doesn't think she's ever had a truer friend.

She wants to cry. She wants to throw up.

A throbbing starts up in her forehead because, _dammit_, she really needs to cry. No tears flow out of her tear ducts, and she doesn't need to breathe, so she has to work hard to sob. She rests her forehead on the dirt and screams in frustration into the grass.

She goes to blindly fumble for Lou Ellen's hand, still warm only because of her own split blood, but then she feels mist on her fingertips.

Picking her head up, she sees a comet's trail smoke up from Lou Ellen's body. It arcs to the right of it, where the mist pools and swirls in an almost human-like shape. Annabeth stares, flummoxed, as the mist takes on color and grows thicker.

Soon, Lou Ellen's…ghost, Annabeth supposes, is lying next to her body. They're exact parallels of each other, except for the ragged patches of scar tissue spanned over her neck and everywhere else Luke shot.

She can't believe her eyes, but then she remembers Cupid's words: _"That would be your brother's doing, my dear. He threw your body in a ditch, but didn't bury you. Now your soul wanders aimlessly, never being able to touch another, searching for something that will make you whole again."_

Lou Ellen will be in the same suspended oblivion as she.

Hesitantly, she reaches out to touch phantom-Lou Ellen. Once her longest finger makes contact with her arm, Lou Ellen's eyes fly open and she gasps in a breath she doesn't need.

"Wh-what?" Lou Ellen's eyes flit around, trying to deduct what happened to her, while more words come tumbling out of her mouth. "Wha's goin'–How–Where–What the hell–"

Then, her gaze finds Annabeth, and she swears the girl's face almost splits in half with how wide she's grinning. She's tackled with a hug that causes her to fall flat on her back.

"Annabeth!" Lou Ellen cries, wrapping her arms around Annabeth's shoulders and burying her face in her curly hair. "You're okay! Ya–You're–Oh my _God_. You're _alive_!"

"Um, not quite," she admits. She tries to pry the other girl off her, but Lou Ellen has a vice grip on her.

Lou Ellen shakes and sobs and hiccups into her shoulder. "Why can't I…" she starts, pulling back to look Annabeth in the eye, but she pauses to suck in a breath. She frowns as she obviously realizes there's something wrong with her breathing, and Annabeth looks at her sympathetically. "Why can't I cry?"

"I'm sorry," Annabeth murmurs. Lou Ellen stares at her quizzically before Annabeth directs her attention to the body.

Lou Ellen claps a hand over her mouth to muffle a scream. She scrambles off of Annabeth, trying to get as far away from the–her own body as possible.

"Annabeth," Lou Ellen says slowly as she stares at her body with wide, haunted eyes, "wh-what's going on? Is that–Oh my God. Is that _me_?!"

"Um…Yes," she says lamely. (There really is no easy way to tell a person they're dead, is there?)

"B-but–" Lou Ellen stares at her hands, flipping them over to make sure they're real. "But _how_?"

"It's, um…" Annabeth crouches in front of her, trying to come up with a way to break the news. "Try ta remember."

Hesitantly, the Sheriff's daughter looks past the blonde's shoulder, gazing at the body. Her eyes glaze over in concentration, before they widen in dismay and a strangled gasp rips from her throat.

"Your brother, Luke. He-he–"

Lou Ellen didn't seem to be able to get the words out, so Annabeth nodded. "He killed you," she confirmed slowly. "An' me. An' since he didn't bury us, and nobody else did…We can't go to Heaven, and we didn't even make't ta Hell."

The Sheriff's daughter stares at Annabeth for a long moment, like she's trying to figure out if this is some elaborate prank. She seems to find nothing but earnest intentions written all over Annabeth's face, and takes a deep, shuttering breath she doesn't need.

"What…What are you saying?" she asks, sounding like she knows the answer already.

Annabeth shrugs.

"Welcome to Oblivion."

;

**2015**

"See you later?" Percy inquires.

Annabeth shoots him a smile. He's going through the lobby like a normal person, while she's climbing up the fire escape again, like a…not-so-normal person.

"Definitely," she assures him. She spots a red sports car rounding the corner–not Rachel's, but close–and remembers. She clears her throat. "You, uh, have fun on your date," she says, though her hands tighten around Calypso's cup.

_Oh, shit, Calypso! _

How could she have _forgotten_? Calypso won't be able to see her if Percy and Rachel are going to a movie theatre miles away. Her new roommate probably wouldn't appreciate a drop 'n' ditch.

"What _are_ you and Rachel doing, anyway, this evening?" Annabeth asks, subtle as a bull. _Smooth, Chase, real fucking smooth. _

"Oh, nothing much." He shrugs. "Rachel wants to re-watch all the _Hunger Games_ movies before we go see _Mockingjay Part Two_. We'll be watching it in my apartment, since, you know, she talks about her family as much as you and Calypso talk about yours."

She doesn't catch his _you know you can open up to me_ vibe, as she's sighing in relief. If he was just going to be in the Jackson apartment, good.

Their connection had gotten stronger since she and Percy met. After Bianca died and she comforted him, people could see her in her apartment while Percy was in his. But if one of them left–even just to go in the hall of the complex–than Annabeth would start disappearing.

"Well," Annabeth says, "hope it goes well. Bye." She ducks her head and starts climbing (single-handedly) before Percy can tell she's lying.

"Bye," he calls after her.

She waits on the fire escape until she hears Sally's voice flit through the open window, greeting her son. She flies a bit to help herself for the last ladder, and slides open her window.

"Hey," Annabeth greets, stepping onto the floor. This is the first time she's been able to greet someone living in her home alongside her since she's been dead, and Calypso isn't even in the main room. Figures.

"Sorry, but your coffee's cold," she says louder. "The walk back took a bit longer than expected. Percy and I got…_distracted_."

She wanders deeper into the apartment, shedding her hat and boots and shaking the snow out of her hair.

"Calypso?" Annabeth frowns when she doesn't find her roommate in the kitchen. Could she still be using the Jackson's bathroom?

She goes to check the extra bedroom she hasn't touched in twenty years, but, passing down the hall, she hears a sound come from the bathroom. She backtracks and presses her ear to the door.

Gut wrenching sobs come through the wood. Annabeth winces, then tentatively knocks on the door. "Calypso?"

The sobbing stops almost instantly. There's a clatter as Calypso probably jumps in surprise, banging a knee or an elbow on the toilet Annabeth _also_ hasn't touched in twenty years. Calypso is too busy sniffling and hiccupping to answer.

"I'm coming in, okay?" she says, giving the other girl a warning in case she had been crying against the door.

It's locked, so Annabeth phases her hand through the doorknob. She fumbles around–careful not to have her hand peek out the other side of the door–until her fingers close around the actual locking mechanism and turns it. She takes her hand back.

Tentatively, she nudges open the door. Calypso's got her head buried between her knees, leaning against the bathtub. She looks up when she hears the hinges creak.

Annabeth hesitates. "I know that the toilet doesn't work, but it's not _really_ something to cry about," she jokes.

That earns her a bitter laugh and a tired, half-assed smile. Calypso wipes a few tears from under her red-brimmed eyes. "Yeah," she mutters. "Because _that's_ what I'm crying about."

She furrows her eyebrows, staring at the doorknob. "I thought I locked that," she murmurs.

"The locks work as well as the electricity," Annabeth lies. She fully enters the bathroom, and slides down next to Calypso. She mimics her position, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You look like you need a hug," she observes.

"A hug would be nice," Calypso admits hoarsely. Annabeth lets her rest her head on her knees and wraps an arm around the other girl's shoulders. "You're _freezing_."

Annabeth shrugs. "I get that a lot," she says. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Oka–"

"I talked about my family to Bianca and Leo once, each. Both of them said, 'Oh, they can't be _that_ bad. They love you, because that's what a family does.'"

"Aren't both of their families pretty fucked up?"

"Yeah, especially now that the two of them are…" Calypso chokes on a sob. "But there's a lot of love going around in their houses. For me, not so much. Not _real_ love. Just, 'We have these expectations, these rules, because we love you.' 'This is for your own good.'"

"Do they…" Annabeth pauses, trying to find a way to ask her question subtlety. "Do they ever _hit_ you?"

"What?!" Calypso's eyes snap up to hers, startled, and she lifts herself from Annabeth's person. "No! Of course they don't."

She holds up her hands in surrender. "Sorry. I was just…wondering."

"Why?" Calypso peers up at her. Realization crosses her face, and she tenses. "Did your parents hit _you_?"

Annabeth winces, wondering how to spin this one. Annabeth _had_ gotten whippings whenever she deserved them, but it _was_ legal back then. Every misbehaving kid got them. It wasn't considered abuse back in the 1800s. "No. Not me specifically, but…my dad used to hit my mom. It didn't make for a happy household while that happened."

Calypso nods, relaxing, as if the thought of Annabeth getting beaten truly terrifies her. She's quite…touched, by the concern.

"Whatever happened to your parents, anyway?" Calypso asks.

"They died."

"_How_ did they die?"

Annabeth squirms, avoiding looking at the other girl. "They, uh…died." Calypso opens her mouth to ask more questions, but Annabeth springs to her feet. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm hungry. Sally got me a whole bunch of crackers and dried fruit a while back. Let's go eat that!"

She practically sprints out the door. _Smooth, Chase, real fucking smooth_.

;

After they finish eating (which translates to: Calypso being the only one really eating while Annabeth nibbled on some crackers to pretend she needs to eat) it's dark.

"I think I'm going to retire early," Calypso yawns, stretching her arms above her head. Annabeth nods in agreement.

She snatches up her only pair of pajamas and changes in the bathroom. She really doesn't want Calypso to see her massive scar, not after the talk about _not_ being abused they just had.

"Ummm…Annabeth?" Calypso says as the other girl renters the room.

"Hmm?"

"You only have one mattress."

Oh. Right.

Annabeth shrugs. "I'll take the floor, then," she volunteers.

"Oh, no. I can't let you do that," Calypso protests. "This is your home, so–"

"Calypso," she says, placing a hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "Really, it's fine. I don't sleep much, anyway."

"You're insomniac?" Calypso asks, getting a worried look on her face again.

_I haven't had a wink of sleep in over a hundred years, so, yes. _Very_ insomniac._ Annabeth shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess. I won't sleep any better on the mattress than I will on the carpet, anyway."

Calypso wrings her hands together and bites her lip. "If you say so."

The shorter girl is so tired from her impromptu move that she doesn't have the energy to argue anymore, and is asleep seconds after her head hits the pillow.

Annabeth lays on the floor, a blanket over her body and a pillow under her head. She watches the shadows dance on the ceiling.

She's going to have to be _extremely_ careful, now that Calypso's here. She doesn't think she'd be able to distract Calypso with dried fruit if she were to suddenly disappear into thin air, and she doubts the shorter girl would believe she's becoming a magician.

She's going to have to learn Percy's schedule, inside and out. Hopefully not to "stalker ex-girlfriend" levels, but if it does get to that point…Well, an undead phantom's gotta do what an undead phantom's gotta do.

Calypso suddenly mutters something in her sleep. She rolls over, throwing an arm over the edge of the mattress. Her hand splays slightly over Annabeth's stomach for a moment, until her fingers phase through her ribcage.

Panic seizes her.

Percy's stepped out of his apartment.

Annabeth waits for Calypso to wake up, freak out, but she only snorts in her sleep. A door shuts on the floor above, and Annabeth _feels_ Percy. Calypso's fingers are pushed out of her torso by her body's sudden solidarity.

She heaves a breath of relief.

Oh, what has she gotten herself into?

**AN: The 1891 segment was going to be longer, but I really wanted to get this out today, so, **_**until next time, folks**_**!**

**This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any spelling or grammatical errors, please inform me so I may fix them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Kohl's, Maroon Five's **_**Feelings**_**, or Adele's **_**Hello**_**. The title for this fic was taken from Bastille's **_**Laura Palmer**_**, which I also do not own.**

**Constructive criticism is welcome, and reviews will help Annabeth and company stop Cupid!**


	12. ExpanationAN

Soooooooooooooooo...it's been a while, yeah? I don't entirely know what to say, so let's just start with: Thank you for all your support for this story, even after about two and a half years since it's discontinuation.

A lot of you have been wondering why I abandoned this, so here's why:

Honestly, it's awful. And this isn't just my self esteem issues talking. There's a lot of issues with characterization and grammar and plot and continuity, and I fell into a lot of tropes I'm not proud of, like: Fridging POC, women, and LGBTA characters, queerbaiting, "tragic lesbian" Lou Ellen, and a lot of others.

I tried to fix it (which is why it took months before I finally put DISCONTINUED in the description) but it was really just an unsalvageable mess.

Also, around the time I posted the previous chapter, I figured out that I am gay (some of my repressed lesbian-ism bled into the story with Bianca and Calypso and Lou (which there was going to be a story line where Calypso fell in love with Annabeth, furthering the queerbaiting)) and writing straight ships just...doesn't interest me anymore. Percabeth is a brotp to me and writing them was just me trying to convince myself that I did ship them romantically (no hate to those who do) and also to try to push down my interest in Annabeth/lady ships, and thus keeping me from exploring my own sexuality.

If you must know what was going to happen, here (though I've long since deleted my notes, so this is all from memory): There are other gods and Calypso is one of them. She was going to be a minor, not-fully-realized goddess of love? I think? Her dad didn't like that she dated mortals. Cupid kills...Frank, I believe. Idk what happens in between but the gang all figures out about Annabeth (Annabeth was gonna take Percy to see her old historic town) and they try to devise a plan to take Cupid out. Cupid attacks because ? and Annabeth shoots him. The shot weakens him, thus weaking the connection between Annabeth and the mortal plane that he was keeping up. Annabeth passes on. She sees her family. Percy (with the help of Calypso) brings her back about two years later with the power of lurve and they live happily ever after. The end.

I will not be deleting this story, so that it can serve as a reminder for me (and others) on what NOT to do. I wish to continue to grow as an author.

Thank you guys again for your support, and I hope this helped you guys find some closure.


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